


Two-Player Game

by psychoticfire



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Asexual Christine Canigula, Bisexual Jeremy Heere, Fluff, Gaming, Gay Michael Mell, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Platonic Relationships, and of course rich and jake are gay, at the start i mean, but she doesn't know that so, spoiler alert jeremy's NOT straight, they met online via wrong text message you know the deal, this fic is a prime example of cliche but i wanna write things so take it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-07-12 15:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoticfire/pseuds/psychoticfire
Summary: A text message directed to the wrong gamertag was all it took for an unbreaking friendship to form between two boys on two opposite sides of the country.It started when they were 16, and lasted for long after. After almost a decade of gaming and chatting online together, Michael Mell flies out to be the best man at the wedding of his best friend (both online and generally), Jeremy Heere.Jeremy heads to the airport to pick up his Player One roughly one month before the wedding, wanting to get to know his best friend in real life before the big day. Michael freezes as soon as he sees his best friend for the first time because oh no, he'shot.And he's also straight. And engaged.





	1. Read It And Weep

_HeereToWin: Okay, but hear me out._

_HeereToWin: Dungeons and Dragons, but the dungeon master has a soundboard with the sitcom laugh tracks and sound effects._

_HeereToWin: Or, even better- AoTD but instead of zombies we have passive-aggressive slow walkers._

_OneInAMellion: wait who’s this?_

_OneInAMellion: awesome idea on the dnd thing pls start a petition or something_

_OneInAMellion: and how do you know about aotd that shit’s so vintage_

_HeereToWin: Oh damn, wrong user, sorry_

_HeereToWin: I meant to send those to my friend Jared but I think I clicked on the wrong gamertag._

_HeereToWin: And of course I like it! Vintage video games? Throw em at me, what have you got against them?_

_OneInAMellion: dude who’re you kidding i fucking love aotd_

_OneInAMellion: the name’s michael by the way_

_HeereToWin: You too? It’s a small world._

_HeereToWin: I’m Jeremy. Great to meet you_

_OneInAMellion: you’re so polite wtf_

_HeereToWin: Yeah, well, I’m not your average 12 year old Roblox player._

_OneInAMellion: please tell me you’re joking_

_OneInAMellion: for everything you said in that sentence_

_OneInAMellion: i don’t even know what’d be worse, the 12 year old part or the roblox_

_OneInAMellion: makes me feel dirty just by typing the word ‘roblox’ ugh_

_HeereToWin: God, dude, take a joke. Of course I’m not 12. What kind of 12 year old would know, let alone LIKE Apocalypse of the Damned?_

_OneInAMellion: i’m sorry mr. grammatically perfect, usually when people are trying to convey sarcasm and irony they don’t use full sentence stops and capitalization_

_OneInAMellion: and you’ve avoided the <shudders> roblox question_

_HeereToWin: I don’t play Roblox. I will not play Roblox. The word ‘Roblox’ is hereby cancelled from this chat._

_HeereToWin: And what’s wrong with full proper sentences?_

_OneInAMellion: there’s nothing wrong with full proper sentences aside from the fact that they make me feel like i’m being scolded by my moms again_

_HeereToWin: :p_

_HeereToWin: Wanna join a game together? I found this one map that’s damn hard to beat but Jared isn’t answering any of my messages._

_OneInAMellion: hack this jared’s phone and force him to reply to you_

_HeereToWin: Nah, he’s usually the one doing the hacking._

_OneInAMellion: woah really? sweet_

_HeereToWin: Eh. It WAS pretty sweet when he gained control of the school PA system and blasted All Star during the midterms. Anyway, wanna join the game?_

_OneInAMellion: invite me and i’ll beat the shit out of every other player on the level jeremy_

_HeereToWin: Not if I do it first._

_HeereToWin: Oh wait, but before we start, lemme just finish my introduction real fast_

_HeereToWin: Uh, I’m Jeremy, 16, male (if you haven’t inferred), geek, has no friends, and my dad literally never wears pants._

_HeereToWin: If you couldn’t tell, I’m not good at talking to people either._

_OneInAMellion: you were doing fine up until the dad part_

_OneInAMellion: alright Jeremy_

_OneInAMellion: name’s Michael, 16, male (look at that, we’re practically twins), more of a nerd, only friend’s my headphones, has a weird taste in music, and my moms pry way too much into my nonexistent love life_

_HeereToWin: I get the music part. Like, it’s hard to explain. My music taste is just… all the songs… except for the ones I don’t like._

_OneInAMellion: I KNOW RIGHT???_

_HeereToWin: Ohh god. Opinion on Echosmith?_

_OneInAMellion: i only know the song ‘bright’  and i love it. opinion on bob marley?_

_HeereToWin: Underappreciated, but not my favorite._

_OneInAMellion: <le gasp> you little shit how dare you he’s so good_

_HeereToWin: Told you! Weird music tastes. You and me both, it seems._

_HeereToWin: Anyway, the game’s starting. I added you, check your inbox._

_OneInAMellion: yep it’s there_

_OneInAMellion: prepare to get your ass kicked_

_HeereToWin: Read my username and weep, bitch._

_**HeereToWin** has gone offline._

_OneInAMellion: we’ll see about that_

_**OneInAMellion** has gone offline._


	2. "He's fucking adorable."

**roughly three years later >>**

“Dude,” Richard Goranski said to Michael as the latter poked at his slushie with a red straw. “I think I fucked up. Big time.”

“Given your daily lifestyle, you’re going to have to be a lot more specific,” Michael muttered as he popped the straw into his mouth and gulped down a mouthful of icy red food coloring and artificial flavoring. “Remember that one time you came to school drunk and performed a striptease in front of-”

Rich shushed him, looking left and right to ensure that no one else was reminded of his embarrassing incident. “Michael, we do not speak of that day,” he said urgently, lisp coming out slightly as he covered the other’s mouth. “It doesn’t exist.”

Snorting, Michael nodded, removing Rich’s hand. “Sure thing, Richy,” he said, not sounding at all sincere. “So, what’d you fuck up?”

Groaning, his friend lowered his head. “I may have accidentally come out in front of the whole school,” he said quietly. It was definitely loud enough for Michael to hear, though.

The half Filipino choked on his slushie, accidentally spitting a few drops onto his hoodie. Oh well. They were both red, anyway. Not like anyone would notice. “You did _what?”_

“Keep it down!” Rich whined.

“If you came out to the whole school, I don’t see why I’d need to keep it down, Rich!” Michael dabbed at his hoodie with a piece of tissue. “And hold on, _came out?_ Like, as in closet?”

His friend nodded. “Yeah, uh…”

“Something you wanna tell me, Richard Goranski?” Michael teased. His tone was teasing. He didn’t want Rich to feel pressured or guilty- his friend’s private information was his own, after all.

“Um. I’m bisexual?” Rich tried for an equally teasing tone, but it came out sounding more like a proclamation at the grave of his sinned father. He gave it another attempt. “I’m into both dudes and dudettes?”

“That’s awesome!” Michael put his slushie down and gave his friend a huge grin. “Dude!”

“I know,” Rich said, puffing his chest out slightly. He seemed to be more relieved after seeing Michael taking the news so well. “Now there’s twice the amount of people to reject me. I’m so proud.”

“Oh, c’mon,” the other boy said. “I know for a _fact_ that most of the girls in this school think you’re cute. And there’s got to be guys with some good taste, right?”

Rich wrinkled his nose. “Sure,” he said, dragging out the ‘u’ sound.

“So, how’d you come out in front of the whole school?” Michael stabbed a piece of french fry with his plastic fork and ate it along with another mouthful of slushie. He ignored the judging look Rich was giving home. There were people who didn’t like fries with slushie, and then there were people with common sense.

“I, uh, may have kissed Elijah in front of Jenna Rolan,” Rich said.

Michael spit out what remained of his slushie-fry mix, hastily cleaning his mess up with another tissue. “You did _what?”_

“I might’ve kissed Elijah-”

“OKAY, BACK THAT TRUCK UP,” Michael practically yelled. His slushie forgotten, he grabbed Rich’s shoulders and shook him gently. _“_ Elijah? _Elijah freaking Gordon?”_

“Wow, shout it louder, don’t think Cyprus heard you,” Rich muttered, but he cracked a small smile.

“Okay- sorry- but seriously?” Michael stared at his friend before letting go. “And in front of Jenna? Goddamnit, Rich, I leave you alone for one morning…”

“Well, in my defense,” Rich started, but was cut off by someone clearing their throat.

“Uh, sorry. Am I interrupting?”

Michael turned to tell whoever it was that _yes, they were very much interrupting their gay agenda, so they can fuck off thank you very much,_ but caught his tongue just in time. He elbowed Rich in the ribs hard, repeatedly, in an attempt to get his friend’s attention.

“Ow! Dude-” Rich whipped his head around to look at Michael, and his eyes widened as his gaze fell on the newcomer. Elijah Gordon smiled sheepishly at them.

“N- no,” Rich managed. “Not at all. Hi. Can we help you?”

Michael sent him a mental facepalm. _What are we? The LGBTQIABCD hotline, every day, for every gay, how may we help you? Damnit, Rich!_

“Well, uh, I was just wo- I was thinking if I could maybe get your number?” Elijah was blushing, and Michael looked behind him at Rich, who had a frozen look on his face. Rich turned and looked behind his back to see if there was another person Elijah could be asking their number.

Holy shit. Elijah “Just Got Some” Gordon was asking Michael’s friend _Richard Goranski_ his number. And he was _blushing._

Jeremy would get a kick out of this, if he were here.

The thought of Jeremy made Michael sink back into his seat again, his gut tightening slightly. Earlier that morning, he’d sent a short text via Hangouts to his best friend who he’d never met but had known for about three years, and was now kind of regretting it.

What if he came off as way too direct? And a bit of a creeper? And Jeremy stopped talking to him?

He’d be alone.

Well, he’d still have Rich. But Rich was one of those people who was open and friendly with everyone, who everyone loved and wanted to be friends with. Sure, he and Michael were close, but… it wasn’t one of those friendships where it just _clicked_.

Michael grimaced to himself. What was his mind even talking about anymore? He sounded like a random online sappy phrase generator.

Meanwhile, Rich had just finished entering his number into the phone of one of the hottest guys at their high school. Who he’d also _kissed_. Michael’s mood brightened slightly- at least his friend was having a fairly okay day.

Immediately after Elijah left, Rich turned to Michael with an evident “Did that just fucking happen or did I hit my head on a doorframe six times before I entered this cafeteria?” look on his face.

Michael grinned back, a “That just happened” written all over his face. He decided to throw in a couple of shots fired from his finger guns for good measure. Rich snorted, but he looked ecstatic.

“I know he’s a fuckboy,” he muttered as he glanced at Elijah’s leaving form. Michael noted the amount of girls (and guys) who turned to give him an appreciative look. “But maybe…”

“Hey, if he breaks your heart, I have a friend who knows thirty-two ways to kill a man with salad tongs,” Michael said, only half joking. It had been a 3 AM conversation between him and Jeremy, which happened while Michael was stoned off his ass and the other was sleep deprived.

They’d started playing a game of ‘How to murder’ over the online chatting platform they used. The rules were simple- one of them would throw out a normal, everyday household or else object, and the two of them would brainstorm ways to kill a man with said object.

They’d finished ‘piano’ (in which Michael had come up with the genius idea of using the piano wires), straws, spoons, and a toaster, when ‘salad tongs’ had come up. Michael had accidentally dozed off for a couple of minutes, jerking awake when he’d heard the streams of endless notifications dinging from his laptop.

Jeremy had sent a long series of texts, each of which containing an idea to murder a man with a pair of salad tongs. Michael, after staring at his laptop for a few moments, gently suggested that Jeremy go to sleep. The other had agreed.

“I’ll keep that offer in mind,” Rich said, huffing out an amused breath. “Would that happen to be the same friend who came up with the idea of dipping McDonald’s fries into the McFlurries?”

Michael snorted. “Jeremy didn’t _come up_ with the idea, he just passed on a valuable life hack.”

Shaking his head, Rich sighed. “You two are McFucking crazy.”

“He says the same thing about you,” the Filipino boy remarked absentmindedly.

“Wait, he knows about me?”

“’Course, dude,” Michael said, a lopsided smile on his face as he thought back to all the things, embarrassing or otherwise, that he’d told Jeremy, and vice versa. “You don’t chat every day for three years with someone and not let your whole life story slip.”

“Uh, normally people retain a sense of privacy,” Rich joked. “But seriously, what’d you tell him? About me, of course. I don’t need to hear about what you’re telling your virtual boyfriend about your bedtime routine.”

“I told him about that one time you snuck a bunch of snacks into the movie theater by shoving them under your shirt and pretending you were pregnant,” Michael recalled. “If I remember correctly, your final defense against getting thrown out was yelling, _‘Don’t be transphobic, you sons of cishet bitches’._ ”

Rich choked out a startled laugh. “Oh, shit, that happened, didn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, it did, Richard.”

“Proof?”

_“I was there with you.”_

“Ah. That is quite incriminating.”

“You _think-”_ Michael started to say, but was then cut off by Rich.

“Hold up, you didn’t deny the boyfriend thing?” his friend blurted, sudden excitement crossing his face. _“You_ _didn’t deny the boyfriend thing!”_

“Wh- No!” Michael paused for a second. “Yes? No? NO, we are not dating.”

“You two are practically married!” Rich protested.

“WE ARE NOT,” Michael said firmly, “DATING.”

“Whatever you say, bro.”

“I mean it, Rich! He’s probably straight, anyway.”

“You’re gay enough for the two of you!”

“That’s not how this works!”

Rich winked at him. “I call best man at the wedding?”

Michael groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “What the fuck, Richard?” he asked meekly.

“I’ve seen how you look when you talk about him, Michael,” Rich said, a bit of seriousness slipping into his voice. “If you guys really do talk every chance you get, and it’s been going on for three years… I’ve known couples that have gotten together after like three days of interaction.”

“First of all,” Michael said through his hands, “Those couples are probably straight. And second of all- what I _look_ like when I talk about Jeremy? What _do_ I look like?”

“Damn. You’re right about the straight thing.” Rich hummed thoughtfully. “You look like your will to live revolves around this Jeremy dude. Not to be cliche, or anything, but you always look like you’re happy when you talk about him.”

“I am,” Michael admitted, lifting his face from his hands and glancing at Rich. “God fucking damnit.”

His friend grinned at him. “Mikey getting his gay awakening?”

“I was gay _before_ Jeremy!”

“Right. What was your gay awakening again? Brendon Urie?”

“He’s hot.”

“He _is_ a snack.”

“Mhm.” Michael dropped his face down onto the table, moving to cover his head with his arms. His voice was muffled against the table and through the sleeves of his thick hoodie as he mumbled, “Rich, do I have a crush on Jeremy?”

“I can’t tell you that, man. I can’t tell you what to feel.” Rich wrapped an arm across Michael’s slumped figure. “But when _you_ figure it out for sure, I’ll be the first to know, right?”

Michael nodded against the table, mind whirling.

He couldn’t wait to get back home and check his messages.

-

“I’m home!” Michael called as he kicked his front door shut. The Mell household was small yet comfy, the smell of something cooking constantly lingering in the air. His shoes squeaked on the wooden floor of their living room as he made his way towards the kitchen, where his moms usually were if they were home. “Is that brownies I smell?”

“It is,” Analyn confirmed, poking her head up from behind the kitchen counter. Michael’s other mom didn’t seem to be home, which wasn’t that much of a surprise- Marion was the one with the office job, while Analyn worked from home. “And they’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

“Sweet!” Michael grinned. “Anyway, I’m gonna go to the basement, so if you need me…”

“I know where to look.” Analyn gave her son a soft smile and leaned in, kissing the top of his head. “Tell me about your day later, okay?”

“Later,” Michael promised, and dashed off to the stairs leading to the basement. He’d claimed it as soon as they’d moved in five years ago, pleading his moms to give him the space to use as his personal hideout. They’d agreed, and over the years, Michael had accumulated a good amount of things that were, simply said, exclusively _Michael-Mell-like._

Sliding down the banister to the basement, Michael dropped his backpack onto the ground and kicked off his shoes before launching himself onto a large beanbag. His laptop had been charging all day on the floor next to the door, so Michael had to perform some extreme stretching to reach it.

He slung on his headphones and connected them to his laptop, booting it up and eagerly entering the Skype chatroom he and Jeremy used. A few new messages were waiting for him, all sent at about two in the afternoon.

Right. Jeremy had a free period on Fridays.

Taking a deep breath, Michael clicked on the icon and read the messages from that day, starting with the one he sent before he left for school. The one he both looked forward and dreaded seeing the answer to.

_M. Mell: this might come out a bit weird, so ignore it if it does, but… what do you look like? i’ve been thinking about it and we’ve known each other for three years, but we still don’t know what the other looks like, aside from the fact that you’re white, and i’m half filipino. again sorry if this sounds mildly stalkerish but i was just curious_

_[ Unread Messages ]_

_J. Heere: Oh! I don’t look like much. In fact, if you saw me, you’d probably be very disappointed. I’m white, skinny, dirty blond hair that’s either always too flat or too fucked, and… uh… yeah? That’s it_

_J. Heere: I’ve been thinking about it too, to be honest. But I don’t think we should send pictures. Not because I don’t want to! I’m literally dying of curiosity every day. But it’s just… I kind of want to save the surprise? For when we meet? In real life? Sorry if that sounds weird_

_J. Heere: I promise I’m not a 300 pound 40 year old dude named Chuck living in downtown Nebraska, if that’s what you worried about._

Michael reread the messages three times. At least his friend wasn’t mad at him. Or creeped out. He’d count that as the small win it was.

_M. Mell: well, i wasn’t thinking about that, but now that you’ve mentioned it_

_M. Mell: nice to see you out and honest, chuck_

_M. Mell: but yeah i get it, it’d be the best day of my life when i finally get to see you tho_

He wasn’t expecting an answer soon. According to their past conversations, Jeremy had after school play practice for Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The guy probably wouldn’t answer until after six.

Michael checked the time. Five and a half. Damn.

He pulled up Tumblr and started scrolling through his dashboard, reblogging the more relevant memes and the occasional cute GIF of a puppy. He had roughly 89 followers to please with his self-deprecating humor, and Michael wasn’t about to let them down.

A notification went off on his phone and Michael fished it out from his pocket without even lifting his gaze from his laptop screen. It was a text from one Richard Goranski. Michael swiped on the banner and tore his eyes away from an engrossing video of a rabbit eating a long leaf.

_Rich: dude im relistening to the original mamma mia! soundtrack and its such a fucking bop_

_Rich: u should go listen to it again_

Snorting, Michael typed a reply.

_Michael: which is your favorite song?_

Rich’s reply was instantaneous.

_Rich: CANNOT CHOOSE_

_Rich: literally_

_Rich: I fucking love Super Trouper_

_Rich: but also have you heARD LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME_

_Michael: can’t deny all of them are bops_

_Michael: the melodies and the symphony and the acoustics_

_Rich: NERD_

_Michael: personal favorite is Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!_

_Rich: u hopeless romantic_

_Michael: says the guy who likes Lay All Your Love On Me_

_Michael: you should totally sing that with elijah_

_Rich: yeah probs not_

_Michael: ??_

_Rich: realized that he’s not really my type?_

_Rich: like i’m still bi no doubt_

_Rich: but he’s too much of a flirt with everyone_

_Rich: i want someone who’s more withdrawn but also outgoing if you know what i mean_

_Michael: unfortunately for you and your poetic description of your type, i do not_

Before Rich could reply, a notifying _ding!_ sound came from Michael’s laptop. His eyes widened as he saw the green ‘online’ dot next to Jeremy’s profile picture of a Pac-Man drawing, and almost pounced on the mouse to click on the chat.

_J. Heere: Same, man! I can’t wait to meet my Player One in person_

_J. Heere: But…_

Michael gulped as he stared at the dots signifying the other typing, blinking along the bottom of the chat. He couldn’t ignore the fact that Jeremy had called Michael _his_ Player One. It gave him an inexplicable warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. He disgusted himself with his cliche gay warm soft feelings.

_M. Mell: i can feel the big but coming_

_M. Mell: get it? big but?_

Michael himself winced at his own messages. He was trying way too hard, crush or not.

_J. Heere: A call can’t hurt, right? If we can’t see each other’s faces, we deserve to at least hear each other’s voices?_

_J. Heere: Very funny, Michael._

Jeremy wanted to… call him?

Michael didn’t know why he was surprised. It was something online friends did, right? They Skyped each other, because they couldn’t hang out in person. His heart beating fast, he shakily typed out a reply.

_M. Mell: i’d definitely be down for a call if you’re up for it_

Hesitating, he added another follow up text.

_M. Mell: although i’ve been told that my voice is weird and scratchy_

_M. Mell: might be the weed idk but_

_M. Mell: aren’t you supposed to be at drama practice?_

The reply came fast.

_J. Heere: Can’t believe you remembered that. I, uh, was feeling kind of sick, so I asked Mr. Reyes if I could skip today’s practice. He was slightly miffed, because it’s like, offbook week, but he said it was fine._

_J. Heere: And don’t worry, dude. My voice sounds like I never went through puberty. It cracks so much it’s not even funny anymore. I sound like a fucking 14 year old and I’m like freaking 18. A senior, Michael!_

_M. Mell: feeling sick? you good, dude?_

_M. Mell: or was it feeling sick as in anxiety sick as in christine canigula sick_

_J. Heere: …_

_J. Heere: You know me too well. Damn._

_J. Heere: Wanna call or nah, man? This is me surfing the height of my impulsiveness._

_M. Mell: well fuck yeah i wanna call dude_

_J. Heere: Oh. Okay. Uh_

_J. Heere: Give me a sec_

Michael leaned back against his beanbag, stomach tight with apprehension. His palms were sweaty. He wasn’t sure why. It was just a simple call with his best friend. For the first time since they’ve met each other. Three years didn’t sound like a long time, but for Michael, it was the most commitment he’d put effort into anything, even if it was just a simple friendship.

A friendship in which neither of them even knew what the other looked like.

_Oh, god._

Michael scrambled for his phone and texted Rich.

_Michael: dude jeremy and i are about to call_

He responded fast.

_Rich: ok?? u say it like u’ve never done it before_

_Michael: well about that_

_Rich:_

_Rich: omg seriously?_

_Rich: i’ve known you for one year and during that, nonstop, was you telling me about this jeremy_

_Rich: and you’re telling me that you’ve never even heard his voice???_

_Rich: Do you even know what he looks like????_

_Michael: …_

_Michael: yeahno_

_Rich: i dont even know what to reply_

_Rich: but good luck i guess_

_Rich: serenade him, that always works_

_Michael: NOT HELPING_

Before Michael could yell at Rich over text some more, his laptop screen lit up. It was a small Skype pop up in the corner of his screen, blue and blinking. _Player Two (J.H.) is voice calling._

Swallowing, Michael looked at his phone (Rich hadn’t answered his last text), and before he could chicken out or run out of the basement screaming, he clicked on the green _Answer Call_ button.

For a short second, static blared through his headphones, and Michael quickly adjusted his volume.

A few seconds passed with complete silence. Michael felt his heartbeat speed up, and was almost certain that Jeremy could hear it through the call.

What if Jeremy didn’t like his voice? What if he messed up and said something wrong? Through text, Michael had always had the choice of going back and deleting what he wrote. But in real life, there was no such firewall, and Michael Mell wasn’t exactly known for having the best verbal filter-

“Hello?” came a voice from the other side of the line. His tone was soft and tentative, mixed with an undercurrent of anxiety. “Mi- Michael? It’s Jeremy. Jeremy Heere?”

Oh, god.

Michael’s voice couldn’t seem to work. The boy on the other side of the line- _Jeremy-_ coughed uncomfortably. His voice was so soft. It was fucking adorable.

Michael was doomed.

“Are- is anyone there?” Jeremy tried again. “Dude, if this- if this is a prank-”

“Jeremy,” Michael breathed softly, not trusting his voice. “Hi.”

“Michael?” Jeremy sounded incredulous, much to Michael’s dismay. “Michael Mell?”

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed weakly. “It’s me. Not… what you expected, huh?”

“What? No! No, you’re fine!” Jeremy started to laugh, seemingly hysterical as he tried to get his other words through. His laugh was light, as if he had no cares in the world. “Oh, god, Michael, I thought you weren’t gonna pick up, or- or you were gonna pick up and just leave me hanging, or you were gonna get weirded out by my prepubescent ass voice-”

“Me? Weirded out?” Michael started to laugh too. “Jesus, Jeremy. I thought you knew me better. You sound awesome! And that statement sounded weird, but it’s out there now.”

“It really is you,” Jeremy said, residual amusement still staining his voice. “Three years, Michael. And this is the first time we’ve done this.”

“I know, right? God, we’re such fucking antisocials,” Michael joked. “Rich was shocked when I told him we’d never called each other. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m crazy for not even knowing what you look like.”

“Rich? _‘Don’t be transphobic sons of cishet bitches’_ Rich Goranski?”

“You remember that!” Michael exclaimed.

“Of course I do,” Jeremy said, his tone finally starting to relax. “Like, the first thing I thought when you told me that was ‘what the fuck, Richard?’ and naturally, anyone who reminds me of a Vine at first impression makes a mark in my mind.”

“Did I remind you of a Vine at first impression?” Michael asked.

“Uh… it wasn’t _you_ that reminded me of the Vine, it was the situation, because I’d just sent several mildly weird messages to a stranger,” Jeremy started, “So… the ‘the moment he knew he fucked up’ Vine was my first impression.”

Michael hummed into his mic. “Pretty much accurate anyway.”

He felt comfortable, and it was surprising him. Usually, he had to psyche himself up for just a simple pizza order, and he’d expected this call to go pretty much the same way- short, awkward, and never to be contacted again afterwards.

But it was going fine. Michael felt surprisingly content.

“Man, and to think we’re this excited over hearing each other’s voices for the first time,” Jeremy said, sighing. “Imagine what we’ll be like when we actually meet each other.”

“Dude. I’m gonna fucking die when that happens. You’re gonna have to carry me out of the airport or something,” Michael joked. “Well. You’re gonna have to try. I’m one heavy-ass bitch.”

“And I can’t even open a can of soda properly,” Jeremy groaned into his mic. “Guess we’ll just have to reverse the situation then. I’ll be the one fainting while you carry me out of the airport.”

“Not complaining,” Michael muttered into the mic, grinning. Jeremy snorted in reply. “Now,” the half Filipino boy said, leaning back into his beanbag, “Tell me about this Christine Canigula anxiety sickness. Nurse Mell, at your service.”

The two of them fell into a familiar pattern. Michael was ecstatic. They were telling jokes no one understood except the two of them, and referencing video games or songs that only they’d know. It was like they’d been doing this every day, their usual joking banter and topics coming easily.

Except now Michael could _hear_ Jeremy’s laugh whenever he cracked a bad joke. He could hear his friend stammer like a normal human being. He had proof that Jeremy Heere, his best friend since sophomore year and the first real friend in his life, was alive and actually _there._

They talked until the sun went down, and a while after that. Michael had to stop once for a bathroom break, and Jeremy had to go grab a few slices of pizza. When they finally had to hang up (due to Michael’s laptop overheating and Jeremy becoming worried), Jeremy’d promised to call Michael as often as possible if the other did the same.

At ten PM, Michael Mell collapsed into his bed with his hair wet, his laptop charging and cooling down, and the best damn mood he’s been in since two months.

He pulled out his phone. At least a half dozen texts from Rich were waiting his attention.

_[ Unread Messages ]_

_Rich: soooo how’s it going?_

_Rich: ur not answering so im assuming either really well or u killed yourself in embarrassment_

_Rich: that was a bad joke sorry_

_Rich: MIKE ANSWER ME IM CURIOUS  
_

_Rich: damn u and jeremy boy must be hitting it off pretty nicely_

_Rich: TEXT ME AS SOON AS YOU CAN OKAY_

_Rich: ;))))))_

_Rich: okay still calling the best man at wedding_

_Rich: M I C H A E L M E L L_

The last text was half an hour ago. Michael grimaced to himself as he typed out a single message to Rich, sending it, before placing his phone on his wireless charger stand and flicking off the lights.

_Michael: I’m in such deep shit, Rich. He’s fucking adorable._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback and advice can be sent to my tumblr (@/gaymodeactivated)  
> i'll try to post new chapters as soon as i can but at the very least expect a chapter a week!


	3. "Who'd have guessed?"

“You will not believe what the fuck happened today,” Rich said, shouldering his way into the dorm room he and Michael shared and flopping facedown onto his bed. _“Will not believe,”_ he repeated into the mattress, his voice muffled.

Michael snorted. “Five years of friendship, almost four years shared in college, and this is still your greeting whenever you get back from classes. How was your day, Rich? Why, mine was fine, thanks for asking me, Rich.”

“Smartass,” Rich groaned, turning over so he was staring at the ceiling. “How _was_ your day, Michael?”

The other pretended to think about it for a while. “Eh,” he finally said. “My only lecture today was at one PM today, so I got a pretty good morning.”

“Oh?” Rich rolled over so he was staring at Michael, and smirked. “Lover boy call you?”

“For the _seventh time this week,”_ Michael said with strong conviction, “Jeremy and I are friends.”

“Uh huh. So, two years of you whining to me about your little crush,” Rich drawled, waving a hand at nothing in particular, “And this is how it ends.”

“For the eighth time this week, just because I have a bit of a crush on him, doesn’t mean we are both mutually in love with each other.” Michael thought he was making a good point. Michael had been enduring Rich’s teasing for three years. Michael knew he was making a good point. Michael hoped he was making a good point.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rich said, leaning back into his pillow and humming. “’Oh, I like him, but he’s straight, and I’m not’,” he whined in a poor mimic of Michael’s voice. “’Oh, Rich, you hot bisexual love god Casanova, please tell me, what _ever_ shall I do?’”

“I have not ever,” Michael said, grabbing a spare pencil and pointing it at Rich, “Said anything remotely along those lines.”

“Funny. I could’ve have sworn I distinctly remember you saying the words ‘hot bisexual love god Casanova’ _,_ ’” Rich joked. “But dude, you aren’t gonna deny all those times when you were complaining about the straight agenda, aren’t you? I have texts. I have voice recordings.”

“You have voice recordings?”

“SOMETIMES,” Rich said, very loudly, “When a man is trying to get his beauty sleep, and his friend is right next to him, talking _very loudly_ to the boy he’s _obviously_ pining after, a man takes desperate measures and records the conversations so a man can have blackmail material later in life.”

“I-”

But Rich never found out what Michael was about to say, because a sudden vibration cut through their conversation, accompanied by the first few notes of soft acoustic guitar to Echosmith’s Bright. Rich glanced at Michael. “Dude. Not to be, y’know, that guy, but that ringtone? Gay.”

“Shut up, you… bisexual douche,” Michael managed lamely, and grabbed for his phone. His eyes widening, he picked up the call. “Jeremy?”

“Michael!” His friend’s tone, which Michael had grown to love over the years, was almost vibrating with excitement. “Oh my god, dude. You’ll never guess what happened.”

Rich had sat up in his bed, and was staring at Michael, grinning. _Lover boy?_ he mouthed. Michael flipped him off with an easy smile.

“Really? It’s been like one hour since you last texted me, and we called this morning,” Michael said into his phone. “Did Jared hack something again?”

“No! Well, yeah,” Jeremy admitted, and Michael could hear him shift his phone a bit. “But when _isn’t_ Jared hacking something?”

“Valid point.”

“Michael,” Jeremy said, his tone suddenly turning serious. “You remember Christine, right?”

“Christine?” How could Michael forget? “You mean, Christine Canigula, your crush from sophomore year all the way through senior? The girl whose name you seem to sing?” he teased his friend in a singsong voice. “Never heard of her.”

He heard Jeremy laugh through the line, and mentally congratulated himself. Every time he made Jeremy chuckle, snort, or laugh, he considered a great win. _God, he was so gay._

“Okay, but all jokes aside,” Jeremy continued. “You know how, uh, I had a crush on her for like…”

“For as long as you’ve known me,” Michael confirmed.

“Yeah. That. And, uh, you know how me and her, we dated for a while in se- senior year? Like at the end.”

“Yeah. You guys broke up because of college, right?”

“Right, but, uh, so,” Jeremy stammered, “We- we, uh, started talking again a while ago, like five months, and- and I was going to tell you, but I got distracted every time, and…”

Since when did his best friend stammer so much in a conversation with Michael? “You okay, Jeremy?” Michael asked, concern in his voice. “You haven’t stuttered this much since… well, you’ve never stuttered this much.”

His friend muttered something rapidly that Michael didn’t catch. The half Filipino boy frowned. “Come again?”

_“ChristineproposedtomeandIsaidyesandohmygod,”_ Jeremy said, all the words blurring together in one exhale.

The world went silent for a moment.

“Christine… proposed?” Michael repeated dumbly.

There was a loud crash from beside him, and he turned to see Rich on the floor, apparently having rolled off the bed abruptly and hit the ground hard. He looked at Michael with an incredulous face. _Who did what?_ he mouthed.

Jeremy’s breath was audible through the line. Michael quickly hit the speaker button and set his phone down on the bed. Rich got up quietly and leaned against the wall.

“Christine proposed to me,” Jeremy said quietly. His voice was shaky. “And… and I said yes.”

Michael didn’t trust his voice at the moment. He didn’t trust himself to not say something he’d regret. His gaze locked with Rich’s, who looked at him and nodded. Michael silently got up from his spot on his bed and exited the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He leaned on the wall outside their shared bedroom, and slowly slid down into a sitting position on the hard wooden floor of the flat he and Rich had rented. Through the thin door, he could hear Rich talking with Jeremy.

“Hey, uh,” Rich started awkwardly. “Michael just left because- because, uh, he felt a bit sick from the leftover Chinese takeout from last night, and told me to… ta- take the call?”

“Wha- who’s this?” Jeremy’s voice was confused, but Michael couldn’t detect any hurt. He breathed out a shaky sigh of relief.

“Oh. Um, Rich? Rich Goranski?”

“Oh! You’re Michael’s friend, right? His college flatmate,” Jeremy said.

“Uh, that- that’s right,” Rich said, surprise in his voice. “He told you that? You’re Jeremy, right? He’s told me a _lot_ about you.”

“Yeah- Jeremy’s the name. And there’s- uh, he told me a lot,” Jeremy said lamely, “about you. Is Michael okay?”

“Yes! Um. There might’ve been something in the takeout. From last night. Which we ate. A few hours ago.”

Michael didn’t know whether to be grateful for Rich’s quick thinking, or to be mildly horrified at his friend’s terrible acting skills.

“Did it have red peppers in it? I think he has an allergy to red peppers,” Jeremy said. “He gets nauseated.”

“I… did not know that,” Rich admitted. “There might’ve been. There was red in there. It was either red peppers, or someone sprinkled fried red Sour Patch Kids in there. Sadly, that might’ve been a real possibility.”

There was a shared moment of silence as Jeremy and Rich contemplated the dark secrets hidden in the back kitchen of a Chinese food restaurant.

“Anyway, uh, can you tell Michael to call me back later? Or text me? Whichever one he’s- uh, whichever one he prefers,” Jeremy said, stumbling over a few words.

“Yeah, dude,” Rich replied. “No problem.”

“Awesome, man. Um, thanks?”

“Anytime, bro.”

Michael could hear the dial tone as Jeremy hung up, and loosed a large sigh of relief that he didn’t even realize he was holding in. He didn’t turn as Rich opened the door. “Chaos averted,” his friend said lightly. “You’re welcome.”

When Michael didn’t reply, Rich plopped down next to him and put a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”

Michael turned to look at him, his gaze blank. He forced a smile. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? My best friend just got engaged. My best friend for six years just got engaged, and never said a word about it to me beforehand about him dating the girl he broke up with. My best friend who I’ve had a crush on for five years just got _engaged-”  
_

He cut himself off before he could say anything else. “I’m good,” he said with fake cheerfulness.

Rich wasn’t buying a single cent of Michael’s clear bullshit. “Do you wanna…”

“Eh.”

“Like, talk…?”

“Eh.”

“About. Things?”

“Eh.”

“Are you Canadian now?”

Michael groaned and fell sideways, a pathetic bundle of red hoodie and tangled headphone wires (he never changed) lying on his side in a small flat stacked with vintage video games and other random junk. He grunted a noncommittal response to no one in particular.

“Oh, god. That’s it.” Rich groaned as he got up, and held a hand out to Michael, who pointedly ignored it. “Look, we’ll figure this out, okay? Now, I’ve got three cartons of Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer, some leftover pizza, and an illegally downloaded copy of whatever you want. You can sulk here, or we can figure it out together.”

“Let me mope in peace, Richard,” Michael complained. “I’m still an angsty teenager where it counts.”

“Be an angsty teenager while watching Deadpool, or Snow White, or something. I’m not letting you wallow in your own self deprecation.” Rich bent down and grabbed Michael’s arms, hoisting his friend up into a standing position with no small amount of difficulty. “C’mon, big boy.”

Despite his complaints, Michael let Rich drag him to the small living room consisting of a small couch, a TV (hooked up to a Chromecast streaming device), and one potted plant that a guy called Evan had gifted Michael. They didn’t really know each other, it was a few short encounters in the library and an accidental run in at Starbucks.

“Sit,” Rich said, shoving Michael to the couch. “Stay. I’m getting ice cream.”

Michael closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Fuck my life,” he muttered under his breath.

“As fucked as it might be,” Rich called from the kitchen, a quiet curse following his sentence as he dropped a spoon, “It’s still your life, and your life pays half the rent around here.”

A short laugh escaped Michael. “Yeah, yeah. Get back here, Goranski.”

One hour, thirty minutes, and a carton of chocolate and vanilla chocolate chip cookie dough fudge brownie ice cream later, Michael cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Hey,” he started, turning towards Rich. “Thanks. For, uh, earlier. I owe you one for that.”

Rich huffed out an amused laugh, eyes shifting from the TV to Michael. “Dude, you don’t owe me anything. You’ve been covering my ass for the past five years. Pretty sure you saved my life three times.”

“Yeah, but…” Michael wasn’t sure what to say. “This was, well…”

“This was a Jeremy Heere thing?” Rich hummed in agreement. “Well, you bailed me out of an Elijah Gordan thing.”

“Oh god,” Michael said. “Right. That happened.”

“I could have died if you didn’t tell me to stop dating him,” Rich reminded his friend.

“Fuck, true,” the other groaned into his hands. “Man. You do owe me a lot.”

“We’re even now,” Rich said.

“Right,” Michael confirmed.

“But, uh, I do think you should text him back,” Rich said hastily.

“I will!” Michael protested.

“Sometime in the next few hours?”

“Damn.” The Filipino boy sighed. “Fine.”

—

_M. Mell: hey jere_

The other’s reply was almost instantaneous.

_J. Heere: MICHAEL_

_J. Heere: Uh. You feeling okay?_

_M. Mell: yea rich gave me some meds i’m better now_

_J. Heere: Oh. Good. Tell Rich I said thanks_

In the real world, Michael smiled to himself.

_M. Mell: for giving me meds?_

_J. Heere: Man, that sounds weird doesn’t it?_

_J. Heere: Whatever. Gotta thank the guy who’s been taking care of my best friend of seven years._

_M. Mell: i’ll pass on the message_

Rich was asleep, at the moment. Michael had stalled for as long as possible before sending the first text to Jeremy. It was almost twelve- he was surprised that Jeremy was still awake, and had texted him back so fast. It was almost like he’d been waiting.

Michael shook the thought off. Why would someone care that much about someone like him?

_M. Mell: so…_

_M. Mell: uh_

_M. Mell: guess congratulations are in order now?_

This time, Jeremy was a little late in replying.

_J. Heere: Yeah_

_J. Heere: Ya boi’s engaged now. Somehow._

_J. Heere: And to think there was a time when I was convinced that I was going to be a virgin for the rest of my life. To be fair, I’m still very surprised my life isn’t going that way._

_M. Mell: ah yes_

_M. Mell: first time with one brooke lohst, if i recall correctly_

_J. Heere: Love how we just know everything about each other_

_J. Heere: Even dad doesn’t know who it was_

_J. Heere: Come to think of it he might still think I’m a virgin_

_M. Mell: does he know you’re engaged??_

_J. Heere: Yeah. Second person I told._

_J. Heere: He seemed really surprised, though_

_J. Heere: And then he asked me about you_

_M. Mell: ???_

_J. Heere: I don’t know either dude_

_J. Heere: It was like, “Hey dad, I’m engaged now” and he was like “So how’s Michael”_

_M. Mell: ?????_

_J. Heere: Idk man it’s been a LONG day_

_M. Mell: ooooookay?_

_M. Mell: so who was the first person you told, if your dad was the second_

_J. Heere: Oh_

_J. Heere: Uh_

_J. Heere: You_

_M. Mell: WOAH_

_M. Mell: HOLD UP_

_M. Mell: out of ALL your broadway friends_

_M. Mell: and your dad_

_M. Mell: and your friends from high_

_M. Mell: you told ME first??_

_J. Heere: Well… it’s not exactly surprising_

_J. Heere: You’re my Player One, dude_

_J. Heere: Of course I’d tell you first_

_J. Heere: In fact_

_J. Heere: I kinda wanted to ask you something_

_M. Mell: you proposing to me too drama boy?_

_J. Heere: MICHAEL_

_J. Heere: Fuck dude_

_M. Mell: sorry. shoot_

_J. Heere: Uh,_

_J. Heere: do you maybe wanna be the best man at my wedding?_

Michael choked on his spit.

_M. Mell: haha very funny jeremy_

_J. Heere: I mean it!_

_J. Heere: You’ve been my best friend for so long_

_J. Heere: endured the pain of me pining over girls_

_J. Heere: you dont even LIKE girls_

_J. Heere: And you know so much nitty gritty shit about me n the other way round too_

_J. Heere: so I thought it’d just be a great idea_

_J. Heere: You don’t have to if you don’t want to_

Michael couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s texts.

_M. Mell: Jeremy_

_M. Mell: I’d be honored to take the position of best man at your wedding_

_J. Heere: OH MYG OD_

_J. Heere: SERIOUSLY???_

_J. Heere: THANK YOU_

_J. Heere: DIDN’T THINK YOU’D ACCEPT_

_J. Heere: LITERALLY SCREAMING RIGH TNOW_

_M. Mell: I WOULD TOO BUT RICH’S ASLEEP_

_J. Heere: WAKE HIM UP AND MAKE HIM SCREAM WITH US IDK_

_M. Mell: actually,_

Michael looked to the opposite side of the bedroom. Rich was sleeping facedown on the pillow, snoring soundly. Feeling only slightly guilty, Michael grabbed his pillow and tossed it onto his friend’s sleeping figure.

Rich groaned, letting out a slight ‘oomph’ sound upon being attacked. “No,” was his only reply before he resumed snoring.

Michael snorted. Grabbing the next nearest thing (his blanket), he curled it into a vaguely ball-like structure and threw it at Rich.

It landed just short of his friend’s bed.

“Fuck,” Michael swore. “Rich!”

“No,” Rich repeated, more insistently this time.

“Richard Goranski!”

“What?” Rich whined, rolling over and attempting to stretch. It resulted in him losing his balance and falling off the edge of the bed- landing on Michael’s blanket. Rich blinked slowly. “Why’s your blanket-”

“I’m gonna be best man at Jeremy’s wedding,” Michael blurted.

Rich’s eyes widened slowly. “Wh- that’s awesome, dude!”

“I know!”

A couple of pings from Michael’s laptop distracted them.

_J. Heere: Michael don’t wake Rich up I was kidding_

_J. Heere: Rich if you’re up now I’m sorry_

_J. Heere: Michael Mell if you abandoned me I swEAR_

Michael read the messages out loud and Rich laughed, getting up and jumping onto Michael’s bed, swiping the laptop from his friend to a quiet protest.

_M. Mell: rich forgives u jeremy xx_

_J. Heere: Hi Rich_

_M. Mell: damn am i that obv_

_J. Heere: Michael’s got a small taboo on using the abbreviations for ‘you’ and such. He says he wants to be edgy but not emo_

Michael read the messages over Rich’s shoulder. “I said that _one_ time, _three_ years ago,” he protested. “Tell him that.”

_M. Mell: mikey just said that he is v much emo and will be stuck in his emo phase forever_

_M. Mell: also he has a crush on gerard way_

_J. Heere: Oh god_

_J. Heere: Thot begone_

Rich barked out a laugh. “Oh, man, I like this guy,” he said, returning the laptop to Michael. “You better make your move fast or I’m so stealing him.”

“He’s engaged!” Michael said as he keyed in a quick text.

_M. Mell: it’s michael i’m back_

_M. Mell: i do NOT have a crush on gerard way_

_M. Mell: i am NOT emo_

_M. Mell: i never had that phase_

_M. Mell: rich is hereby cancelled from speaking to you ever again_

_J. Heere: Aw, Michael sounding jealous_

_J. Heere: Don’t worry dude, nothing could replace my favorite person_

Rich, reading the texts from around Michael’s arm, snorted. “You two are gay.”

“He’s _engaged!”_ Michael protested again. Rich shrugged.

“But not yet _married_ ,” his friend argued.

Michael shook his head. “We’ll talk about this later.”

_J. Heere: Oh hey_

_J. Heere: Tell Rich he’s invited to the wedding_

_M. Mell: rich jeremy bans you from the wedding_

_J. Heere: Michael!_

_M. Mell: fine, fine_

_J. Heere: You can bring another guest if you want_

_J. Heere: This is like a small thing, but I want more friends in on this too_

_J. Heere: Even though it’s like a year away, Chloe and Jake are on this like dogs on a trail_

_J. Heere: I swear, I’ve never seen Jake Dillinger so invested in something since second grade_

_M. Mell: oh my god dude_

_M. Mell: you know what this means?_

_M. Mell: we’re finally gonna see each other in person_

A short pause.

_J. Heere: Holy shit._

_J. Heere: You’re right_

_J. Heere: Oh my fucking god_

_M. Mell: IKR_

_M. Mell: next year, huh? you got a month?_

_J. Heere: Uh_

_J. Heere: My friend Connor suggested end of May or early June_

_J. Heere: Con’s weird but we took him up on that_

_M. Mell: yo, connor murphy??_

_M. Mell: and you make fun of ME for being emo_

_J. Heere: Connor’s not emo!_

_J. Heere: at least I hope not or he’s not invited to the wedding_

_M. Mell: wow, you’ve only been engaged for one day and you’re already planning the wedding_

_J. Heere: Honestly, most of it is Christine, Chloe, and Jake. I’m just getting contaminated with residual excitement._

_M. Mell: same_

_M. Mell: and it’s not even my wedding_

_M. Mell: it’s just my best friend getting married_

_M. Mell: wait hold up_

_M. Mell: aren’t you two like_

_M. Mell: 22 or some shit_

_M. Mell: isn’t that just a bit too early to get married_

Rich hummed in agreement, eyes flickering over the text messages. “Honestly, same thought,” he mumbled, already half-asleep. “Hey, Mikey, if I fall asleep on you, just take my bed.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed absentmindedly. He waited expectantly for Jeremy’s reply.

_J. Heere: Yeah I’ve thought about it_

_J. Heere: A lot of thoughts crossed my mind a split second before the “yes”_

_J. Heere: But hey_

_J. Heere: I’ve known Christine for all my life, even though I only started talking to her after you encouraged me_

_J. Heere: And Christine’s always been one to think things through_

_J. Heere: She’s a theatre kid, she plans things and thinks about everything_

_J. Heere: So yeah_

_J. Heere: I think I trust her_

_M. Mell: okay dude_

_M. Mell: but if you ever need it_

_M. Mell: i know how to smuggle someone into the french border_

_M. Mell: don’t ask how_

_M. Mell: it involves a really weird encounter at a bar and a green egg_

_J. Heere: A what now_

_J. Heere: On second thought, don’t tell me_

_J. Heere: But I’ll keep that in mind, haha_

_M. Mell: i’m still happy for you, jeremy_

_M. Mell: send christine my congratulations as well_

_J. Heere: I will_

_J. Heere: It’s getting late. You should sleep_

_J. Heere: We’ll talk more tomorrow_

_M. Mell: and in one year, when we finally meet for your WEDDING_

_J. Heere: Who’d have guessed?_

Michael flipped his laptop shut, setting it onto his desk. Rich, indeed, had fallen asleep, so Michael gently eased his friend off him and onto his mattress. Sighing, he stood up and walked out of the room.

He didn’t think he could sleep that night.

Michael went straight for the fridge. Neither Rich or he were serious drinkers, but they kept a six-pack of beer in their fridge for special occasions or, as in this case, moments when they needed to mellow up.

Michael grabbed two cans and shut the fridge door behind him as he navigated his way to the living room. Tossing a can on the couch, he popped open the tab on the other one and took a deep swig, letting bitter liquid run down his throat. He sat down on the couch.

He remembered the first time he’d tried beer. It was with Jeremy, over text. Their friendship had pretty much just begun, just two months in, and they were still idiotic teenagers who, somehow, hadn’t had beer even though they were both sixteen.

Jeremy had first brought up that he’d never drank alcohol of any form. Michael had confirmed the same on his end- despite being an enthusiast of old vintage drinks and smoking pot, neither of which pertains a connection with the other- he’d never had alcohol.

One thing led to another, and then suddenly there were two teenage boys on opposite ends of the United States, spitting out stolen beer from their parents’ stash. Jeremy had grouched about how it was more bitter than he’d expected. Michael had commented on how it tasted weirdly like flat apple cider, without the sweetness or the apple.

Michael let the memory wash over him as he took another gulp of beer. He’d grown more used to the taste. Well, more accepting of it. He wasn’t a drinker- still just a lonely gamer stoner gay boy.

Jeremy was engaged. To a girl. Christine Canigula, the girl he’d been pining after since sophomore year. Christine Canigula, who had a rich family, a cute personality, and everything Michael didn’t.

Including one adorable, lovable, perfect-in-all-his-imperfections Jeremy Heere.

Exhaling, Michael downed half the can as he internally laughed to himself about his situation.

“Pining after a straight boy,” Michael muttered to himself, his tone matching the bitter alcohol, “on the other side of the country, who’s now engaged to an amazing woman. Such a cliche unrequited love.”

When will his life not be a joke?

Sighing, he tipped back another mouthful of beer, his gaze drifting to the houseplant in the corner. Maybe he’ll invite Evan to Jeremy’s wedding. More the merrier, his best friend had said, right? Besides, they all needed more friends.

Michael _was_ happy for Jeremy. At least his best friend was getting a happy ending to his story. It didn’t matter if Michael wasn’t getting his fairytale- as long as Jeremy was okay, he would survive.

_Who’d have guessed?_ Jeremy had said.

“Who _would_ have guessed,” Michael now muttered, throwing the empty beer can in his hand into the trash can he and Rich had set up near the kitchen. It bounced off the rim and clattered to the ground. Michael winced- hopefully that hadn’t disturbed his sleeping flatmate.

_“You’re my Player One, dude.”_

Michael popped open his second can of beer and settled back into the couch.

Maybe he should break out the weed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slightly longer wait!  
> again, if you wanna chat with me or constructively criticize or whatever... my tumblr's @/gaymodeactivated  
> comments are always appreciated and makes my day
> 
> anyone excited for the next chapter? :)


	4. Falling For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all enjoy :)))

**_like, one year later but yet not quite >>_ **

Jeremy Heere stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He mentally noted every blemish, every spot of acne (even as a technical adult, he still had the acne of a puberty-undergoing teenager), and scowled at himself. Grabbing a towel and wetting it, he started scrubbing at his face again.

He checked the date on his phone when his face started hurting, putting down the towel. _April 25th._

Today was the day he would meet Michael.

They’d planned it out. Michael would arrive, along with Rich and a friend of theirs named Evan Hansen. Michael would stay at Jeremy’s apartment, and Rich and Evan would be crashing at Jared’s, since he had the larger place with his computer science job income.

The wedding was about a month away. Jeremy and Michael would spend the month bonding (in real life), and planning last minute details. Rich and Evan were pretty much there just as moral support, but Jeremy figured that they should all hang out often. He’d been wanting to meet new people, anyway. And Jared really needed to get out the house more.

Jeremy had taken a full month and a half off of his off-Broadway role. It wasn’t the _main_ role, but he was still playing a pretty significant character. His understudy had been elated, and wished him a happy wedding.

But all that wasn’t the point.

The point was…

“Yo, Jere!” Someone with the voice that could only have been one Jared Kleinman banged at the bathroom door. “I know you’re meeting your hot online hookup today and all, but let a man use the toilet once in a while, especially if you invited him over!”

“Jared, I’ve told you multiple times that Michael is not my boyfriend,” Jeremy shot back, and, with a final glance back at the mirror, headed for the bathroom door. He opened the door, and was greeted with the sight of Jared’s mocking grin. “I’m straight and engaged. To-”

“Christine Ca _ni_ gu _la_ ,” Jared interrupted, singing her name and leaning on the bathroom doorframe. “Yes, Jeremy. I’ve only heard you sing her name, like, 37 times a day back in sophomore year. And just as well for you being straight too- with all you’ve told me about this Michael character, I’d be damned if I don’t fall in love with him first sight.”

Jeremy was too distracted by Jared’s last few sentences to notice the first two. “Wh- you will _not_ date Michael!”

“Why not?” Jared smirked at him.

“I…”

Truth was, Jeremy couldn’t think of a reason why Jared _couldn’t_ date Michael. They were both gay- Jared had told Jeremy when they were both ten, and Michael had come out to him in their fifth month of friendship- and had the same sense of wicked humor. Michael was single, Jared was single, they were both fairly good-looking…

“Just don’t,” Jeremy managed lamely.

“No promises, Heere,” Jared said, and winked at him. “Now get your ass out of that bathroom, this boy’s got some beautifying to do.”

“You’re 23, Jared,” Jeremy muttered, but let his friend pass into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him, still inexplicably miffed by Jared’s comment about dating Michael. He didn’t know why. “But hurry up- they’ll be at the airport in three hours!”

“Calm your tits, Jeremiah,” his friend hollered back. “We’ll be fashionably late!”

-

Michael wasn’t sure how he was still breathing.

After eight years of texting, gaming, calling, joking, and being friends, he was finally about to meet his best friend and crush of six years, Jeremy Heere, for the first time.

He should be hyperventilating.

But nope, somehow he was standing calmly in front of a public airport bathroom sink mirror, trying to smooth down his hair with his wet palms. Michael frowned at the mirror- he was wearing his classic red patched hoodie with white headphones strung around his neck, with black rimmed glasses and a headband- before exiting the bathroom.

“Took you long enough,” Rich joked as he slung an arm around Michael’s shoulder. “What, doing some last minute jerking off in there?”

“Rich,” Evan complained, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. “Bad joke.”

“Damn, Ev,” Rich muttered, elbowing him good-naturedly. “Didn’t know I had to go through your judgy-joke radar.”

“None of what you guys are saying makes any sense,” Michael deadpanned. “When’s our flight, again?”

Evan checked his watch. “In, uh, half an hour,” he muttered. “Gate’s right over there. They’ll start boarding in, like, any-”

_“Flight CX-532, now boarding at gate 51.”_

Rich held a thumbs-up at the unseen speakers overhead. “Thanks,” he called.

Michael grabbed his bag and smiled uneasily at his friends. In the one year- well, ten months, but who’s counting- before their present day, a lot had happened. He had bonded further with Evan Hansen, who turned out to be a pretty cool and nice guy, just with an excessive amount of anxiety. Not that Michael minded- everyone had their issues. And hey, a plus of Evan’s anxiety was that the guy knew all their flight information by heart.

Additionally, Rich had gotten a girlfriend- one Chloe Valentine, a fashion major student at their college. Michael didn’t really like her- she seemed shallow and vapid and basic- but if she made Rich happy, he was all game.

Michael himself had had no progress on his love life. 22 years old, and still a virgin. Goddamnit.

“Let’s go,” Evan said, hoisting his own bag. Rich tugged his backpack over his shoulders, and they followed Evan to their gate. Michael felt a small flash of excitement as they passed the final officers- this was his third time on a plane, and he’d missed the feeling.

The three of them had gotten three seats in the center row, next to each other. Once on the plane, Michael (being the tallest) shoved their bags onto the overhead compartments, and took a seat on the outer seat of the three. Evan took the middle seat, since he was anxious about flights and felt better with people around him.

Rich settled into his seat and whooped, attracting a few stares from other passengers. “Hey, Mikey, Ev,” he called. “How much do you wanna bet that they have the Bee Movie here?”

Evan snorted. “Uh- I have three dollars and a gum wrapper.”

“Good enough,” Rich amended, pulling out the crappy headphones planes gave you and plugging them in. Neither of them were exactly rolling in dough, especially as they were college students, but Rich’s parents had accumulated a trust fund for him over the years, and Michael had a bit saved over from selling pot in high-school (he needed _some_ way to buy vintage soft drinks), and they’d pooled their savings for this small trip.

In Evan’s case, Rich and Michael had both put in a small amount of cash for his plane ticket (despite his protests), and Jeremy had sent along some money as well, as a token of good will. Combined with Evan’s savings from his shifts as a park ranger, it had done the job.

Michael was determined to make this month the best month he would ever month in his life.

The plane ride was short, about an hour and half- Michael, Rich, and Evan went to college in Ohio, while Jeremy and Christine both attended community college in New Jersey. Michael wondered briefly why he’d never flown over before. The plane tickets weren’t cheap, but they weren’t exactly expensive.

He mentally cursed teenage Michael for being so antisocial and never going out of the house.

Roughly in the middle of the flight, Michael dozed off while watching a boring sappy rom-com, and was shaken gently awake by Evan when the pilot alerted them that they were going to start descending over the intercom. As soon as they got off the flight, Rich pulled out his phone and showed Michael the pictures he snuck of him while the Filipino was asleep.

“Fuck you,” Michael groused, ignoring Evan’s choked laughs.

“Nah, fuck Jeremy instead,” Rich replied, increasing Evan’s choking to the max.

Michael spluttered in indignation as they headed for the luggage carousel thing. All three of them had packed a small case- after all, it was a one month stay- but honestly, Michael hadn’t thought of much to bring. Most of the things he stuffed in his luggage were junk.

His phone buzzed right as they spotted Evan’s green suitcase. While Rich and Evan chased after their friend’s luggage, yelling obscenities, Michael checked his texts.

_Heere: Jared and I are outside_

_Heere: He drove me so look for a yellow Toyota due to his terrible taste_

Michael’s stomach tightened. After _years_ of dreaming about finally meeting… the day was here.

_Mell: bold of you to assume i recognize car models_

_Mell: we’re getting our luggage and rich’s cussing out the conveyor belt this is comedy gold_

_Mell: oh god jere we’re meeting_

_Mell: actually mEETING_

The reply came fast.

_Heere: I know I’m freaking out Michael omg_

_Heere: Uh I’m wearing a blue cardigan over a Pac-Man shirt_

_Heere: Just in case you see me first_

_Heere: Jared’s a tan guy with glasses if you spot him first but I think that’s hardly possible_

“Evan!” Rich yelled in triumph, holding up a small green luggage. “Got it!”

Michael smiled at them, heart still pounding.

_Mell: pacman shirt? you really trying to win me over today jere_

_Mell: i’m wearing a red hoodie with patches and headphones you can’t miss me_

_Mell: its the same outfit ive been wearing for the past freaking ten years_

“Hey, Michael, that’s yours, right?” Evan called, pointing to a small black luggage lazily coasting around on the conveyor. It was decorated with stickers of random music albums and the occasional video game art.

“Yeah,” Michael yelled back. Rich grinned, holding up a thumbs-up.

“Get it, Ev!” Rich laughed, returning next to Michael with Evan’s luggage in tow. He peered over Michael’s shoulder to glance at the texts. “Jere texting you?”

“Ye- yeah,” he replied shakily. At his friend’s concerned glance, he exhaled. “God, Rich, I’m so fucking nervous.”

Rich put a comforting hand on Michael’s back. “Hey, man. You’re gonna be fine.”

“But what if he’s disappointed?” Michael practically squeaked. “What if he sees me and is like, immediately revolted or something?”

“You say it like you two _are_ dating,” Rich said, but coughed. “Uh, forget I said that. Michael, listen to me. You look good. You’re an awesome person. If Jeremy thinks you’re disappointing, me and him are gonna have a long talk.”

“People don’t usually like the whole lonely gamer stoner boy physique!” the Filipino yelped. “I still have a crush on the dude-”

“What’s wrong?” Evan had returned, dragging Michael’s luggage behind him. “Why does Michael look like he’s about to pass out?”

“Because I am,” Michael muttered, pushing his hair out of his face. “Evan, I am. Freaking. Out.”

“Michael has a crush on Jeremy and he’s getting intensely anxious about them meeting for the first time like he’s still an angsty teenager with a man crush Monday,” Rich explained. “To be brief.”

“Oh.” Evan nodded. “It’s gonna be fine, Michael. It’s not like Jeremy doesn’t know what you look like-”

Michael gulped and buried his face in his hands. “About that.”

Evan’s eyes widened, and he looked to Rich. The shorter boy nodded in plaintive confirmation. “Oh,” Evan said. “Um. It’s still gonna be fine, man. There’s nothing, uh, disappointing about you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Michael mumbled. His phone vibrated with a text notification.

_Heere: You guys done?_

_Heere: Sorry to rush but like_

_Heere: Jared’s threatening to drive off bc he’s an ass_

_Heere: I’m in the airport you’ll see me when you get to the welcome gate or whatever its called_

“Shit,” Michael muttered. “Let’s go. Jared’s threatening to drive off. Jeremy’s waiting at the gate.” _And I’m still freaking the fuck out, but that’s not relevant._

“Alright,” Rich said, clapping Michael on his back. “Hey, dude, we’ve got your back, okay? You’ve been fantasizing about meeting Jeremy for...” He did the math in his head. “Seven years or so now.”

“That’s why I’m _nervous_ ,” Michael said, voice cracking, but he took his luggage from Evan anyway. Taking a deep breath, he managed a smile. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Evan nodded, clearly not buying any of Michael’s crap, but he led the way to the exit. As soon as they (technically? Legally?) set foot in New Jersey, Michael began scanning the people for a pale blond boy with a Pac-Man shirt. He saw plenty of white blond boys, but none of them were Jeremy- they were either too confident, too fuck-boyish, or too lacking in acne.

Alright, so Jeremy technically wasn’t a boy anymore. But to Michael, he’d always be the stammering, nervous teenager he’d once accidentally gotten a message from on an online gaming platform.

Rich elbowed Michael. “See your boyf anywhere?” he asked, not too quietly.

Michael was too nervous to even consider a retort. _What if he ditched them already?_

Just as the thought came into his head, Michael glimpsed a blond with his back to them. He was wearing a blue flannel, and the Filipino paused briefly to think about what a cardigan looked like- flannels were _kind_ of similar, right?

Before he could change his mind, Michael started forward, pushing through the small groups of people huddled together- and leaving Rich and Evan to hastily follow behind him- and soon enough, he reached the mystery blond. “He- hey,” he started to say, his voice coming out squeakier than he’d expected. “Uh, are you Je-”

The blond turned his head, and Michael could immediately see that it wasn’t Jeremy. For one, Jeremy didn’t have glasses. And second, the way the man was standing in the light had made his hair _seem_ blond, when in reality it was more of a dark brown. And third, he had a skin tone that was way more tanned that Jeremy should be.

“Probably not the guy you’re looking for,” the stranger said to Michael, catching the confused look on his face. “Unless you’re down  for a good night,” he added, seemingly as a joke. His tone could either be taken as serious, or some level of advanced sarcasm.

Michael coughed. “Excuse me-“

Wait. He _wasn’t_ Jeremy, that was evident- the Jeremy Heere he knew would never make sexual innuendos in public- but he seemed familiar. His voice, the tone, the dirty jokes, the sass…

A voice and tone that he’s heard through the phone before. Dirty jokes and sass that’s been yelled through the line. Glasses, tan skin, brown hair-

“Jared?” Michael blurted. “Jared Kleinman?”

He watched as the stranger’s face morphed into one of confusion, then of shock. “Holy shit- gamer boy?”

“Oh, god.”

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Jared spluttered. “Uh-”

“Michael?” It was Evan, finally having pushed through the masses. “Is that-”

“No,” the Filipino said hastily. “But, uh, I do know him. Evan, uh, meet Jared?”

Jared snorted. “That’s the name, gamer boy.”

“Oh. H- hey,” Evan said hesitantly. “Evan Hansen. Um. Nice to meet you?”

“Likewise. So are all of Jeremy’s online friends spicy as fuck, or is it just me?”

“Wh-” Evan started to protest, but was interrupted by Rich, who’d just emerged from the large crowd of people clustered around the exit from the arrival gates.

“Shit, think I elbowed someone in the balls back there,” he muttered. “Not on purpose, of course, it was just this ti- holy shit, is that him?”

“Why do people always mistake me for my twink friend?” Jared said, to no one in particular. Then, to Rich, “Judging from your looks, and tendency to elbow people in the balls… Richard Goranski?”

Rich gaped. “Jared Kleinman?” He turned to Michael. “This is proof that you and Jeremy talk _way_ too much about each other to your closest real life friends.’

“ _Family_ friend,” Jared said automatically, but frowned to himself. “I mean… yeah. Friends. Uh, anyway, the insanely cool Jared Kleinman, at your service, no fries at this diner,” he said to Rich.

Snorting, Rich held out a hand. “You and I are gonna get along fine,” he said as they shook hands.

Michael shook his head and smiled to himself. This was a relatively good start. At least no one was dead yet.

Even if he still couldn’t find Jeremy.

Jared noted his distressed look. “Give me a sec, I’ll dial lover boy.”

Rich waggled his eyebrows. “He sees it too,” he mouthed to Michael.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Uh, that’d be great,” he told Jared. The man just nodded and pulled his phone out, thumbing through his contacts and selecting one, putting it to his ear. After a few seconds, a distressed voice that Michael couldn’t hear clearly came through the receiver. “Yo, Jere, found your boy.”

“Tell him we’re at, uh, Donut Crazy,” Evan said, looking around for a distinguishing feature in their surroundings and pointing out the first one he saw. His stomach growled- he wanted donuts. Tapping Rich on the shoulder, Evan started dragging him towards the shop. “Speaking of donuts…”

Michael watched them go. Jared relayed what Evan had said into his phone, and added a “if you don’t arrive soon I’m stealing him” before hanging up. He didn’t have time to wonder what that meant before Rich waved to him frantically through the donut shop window, mouthing words that Michael interpreted to be either, “Get your ass in here for donuts”, or “Eat your ass in here for these nuts”. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it were the latter.

“So,” Jared said, interrupting Michael’s mental deciphering of Rich’s words- maybe he should have paid more attention to those Wiki-How to Read Lips articles- and giving him a small smirk. “You’re Michael Mell.”

“And you’re Jared Kleinman.”

“Is it true you once got stoned and bought three cases of Crystal Pepsi?”

“Is it true you once hacked the school PA system to Rick-roll everyone during the midterms?” Michael retorted.

Jared grinned. “Aw, hell yeah. Heard a couple was making out in the teacher’s lounge when it happened too. They broke up after that, apparently. I think I traumatized them.”

“Straight people,” Michael said in a halfhearted attempt at making a joke.

“I know, right?”

Michael tried his best to steady his breathing. His nerves were coming back, full force, and he felt like he was choking. “Hey, uh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom-”

Without hesitation, Jared pointed. “It’s right there. Take your time.”

Michael nodded, already heading in the direction the other had pointed in. “Thanks,” he mumbled. Was he really about to get a panic attack minutes before meeting Jeremiah fucking Heere?

Apparently he was.

He started breaking into a run, not trusting his anxiety to not fuck him over sooner than he’d expected. _Shit, shit, shit. Where the fuck was the fucking bathro-_

In his unheeded hurry, Michael tripped over an abandoned luggage and stumbled forward, managing a couple of steps in an attempt to regain his balance before momentum overtook him and he teetered forward, falling straight onto a warm body. For a few seconds, he lay there, wondering about how his life came to this.

Then he came to his senses, and realized that he was still half-straddling a complete stranger after having tripped on him.

“Shit- sorry!” Michael yelped, tumbling off the other person and staying on the ground. “I was just, uh, running to the bathroom and I wasn’t looking at where I was going and- oh my god are you okay- I’m so sorry I _really_ didn’t mean to fall on you-”

The stranger blinked and propped himself onto his elbows, reaching a hand up to brush his blond hair out of his eyes. “It- it’s fine!” he stammered. Michael’s eyes widened- the stranger sounded familiar. “I- I wasn’t looking either- if anything it might be my fault we fell-”

“No-” Michael started to say, but cut himself off. He struggled to his feet, and held out a hand to the stranger. “Okay. Bad start. Sorry.”

The other took his hand and Michael pulled him up to a standing position as well. He immediately let go of the Filipino’s hand and started to fidget with the buttons on his bright blue cardigan. “No- no, _I’m_ sorry-”

_Woah._ Back up a second.

_Bright blue cardigan._

The stranger never got to finish his sentence. As soon as he was standing up, Michael finally got a good view at who he fell onto in the middle of an airport.

A tattered Pac-Man shirt was underneath the other’s cardigan.

“Oh my god,” Michael mumbled. The stranger froze.

“What’s wrong- oh god are you hurt-”

“No,” Michael interrupted. Deciding to just get it over with, he blurted, “Are you Jeremy Heere?”

The stranger stared back. For a moment, Michael’s blood ran cold- _he was wrong it wasn’t Jeremy he’d just made a fool of himself and his best friend was still missing-_

“Michael?” the other breathed softly. “Michael Mell?”

“Oh, god,” was the only thing Michael managed before Jeremiah Heere wrapped his arms around the Filipino’s shoulders and began sobbing gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think? did i do their meeting scene justice?  
> comments are always appreciated and make my day- tell me what you thought!


	5. We Could Connect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! here's a 4k word chapter for y'all, hope you enjoy :)

Jeremy hadn’t been expecting things to turn out this way.

He and Jared had arrived at the airport in Jared’s beat up yellow Toyota, ten minutes before Michael’s flight was due to land. Hands shaking, Jeremy had typed out a few messages to his friend, his breathing speeding up with every message he received in return.

“You’re hyperventilating,” Jared had commented when they were still in the car, him lounging lazily in the driver’s seat while Jeremy stared at his phone, barely breathing, in the shotgun seat.

“No, I’m not,” Jeremy said defensively, clearly freaking out.

“Please stop hyperventilating.”

“I’m not hyperventilating!”

“You’re having considerable trouble breathing.”

“I’m having _no_ trouble breathing. _”_

“Do you need a paper bag?”

“I’m _not hyperventilating!”_ Jeremy had yelled, scrambling for the car handle and falling out of the car, landing on the asphalt with a yelp. Hearing Jared’s laughter coming out from inside the car, Jeremy lifted a hand to flip him off, and slammed the door.

And then he was in the airport, in front of the flight monitors, scanning each column to find the flight number Michael had texted him a few days earlier. After a few minutes, he’d found it- it had just landed.

Then Jeremy was jostling his way through a crowd, trying to get closer to the gates. Vaguely, he’d heard Jared behind him yelling about how he needed to “calm your nuts, Jeremy”, but he’d ignored him.

Then Jared had called him- _he’d_ found Michael, Rich, and Evan before Jeremy could. Jeremy had been shocked, but had turned to make his way back to the donut place as soon as he could.

He’d been running, pushing through groups of people, too rushed to even shout an apology back-

And then he’d collided directly with a person who’d tripped, and they’d gone sprawling to the ground.

Then the other had started apologizing and he’d had the most fucking _familiar_ voice that Jeremy couldn’t, for the life of him, place, and Jeremy had started to ramble too, and then the other had stopped talking, and-

“Are you Jeremy Heere?” the stranger blurted.

Jeremy looked up at him blankly. _Jeremy Heere-_ yes, that was his name, but he didn’t know this person, and his best friend who he’d never met was still missing, somewhere in this airport…

_Oh. Oh my fucking god._

“Michael?” Jeremy breathed, and he watched as the other’s eyes widened. “Michael Mell?”

“Oh, god,” Michael whispered, and even though he’d never seen his face, Jeremy _knew._

He stumbled forward a few steps and held his arms out, throwing himself into an embrace with his best friend of eight years, Michael Mell, and started to sob.

Michael stumbled backwards a few steps, but instinctively put his hands on Jeremy’s back, rubbing him soothingly. “Hey- oh my god. You’re- you’re _here,_ and you’re- you’re crying? Jeremy? Are you okay?”

Jeremy wasn’t sure why he was crying either- pent-up anxiety mixed with the relief at finding Michael, and finally the joy of finally meeting his best friend. “I- I don’t know?” he admitted shakily, letting go of Michael. “It- it’s you, right? Really you?”

“Michael Mell, at your service,” Michael said with a small smile. His hair was mussed, combed back hastily and held in place with a dark headband. His glasses were crooked, and Jeremy resisted the urge to reach out and tilt them. _Michael’s standing right in front of you_ , a voice said in his head. _Michael motherfreaking Mell, right in front of you._

His breathing increased in rate and volume, and Jeremy took a step back. _You’re not going to faint, are you-_

“Cool,” was all Jeremy managed. “God.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Uh, we should get back to the, um, others.”

“Oh- right! Jared and Rich and, uh, Evan, right?” Jeremy said, trying to remember all the names. In his state of temporary emotional shock, he was surprised he remembered his _own_ name.

“Yeah. I think you’d like Evan. And Rich, but you guys are kinda friends already, so,” Michael said, his words coming out blurred. Evidently, he was as nervous as Jeremy was. Both of them walked in silence for a while, not knowing what to say to the other. Jeremy didn’t remember it ever being so awkward between them through calls or texts.

“Hey, Michael?” Jeremy said when they reached sight of the donut place. Jared, Rich, and Evan were sitting on the floor outside the shop. Jared caught Jeremy’s eye and shot him a wink followed by a surprised look when he saw Michael.

“Yeah?” the taller boy asked in reply.

Jeremy turned and started walking backwards, a move that would have normally resulted in him tripping immediately. He looked up hesitantly into the eyes of his best friend, and noted how Michael’s gaze seemed to always shimmer with amusement, and how his eye color was brown flecked with hazel. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said.

Michael grinned. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

—

“So, you guys are from Ohio, right?” Jared said as he carefully pulled his car out of the parking spot he’d managed to get. He was driving, with Jeremy once again beside him in the shotgun seat. Michael, Evan, and Rich were all cramped into the backseat, with Rich’s elbow poking uncomfortably into Evan’s stomach and Michael’s legs pressed against the car doors.

Rich grinned. “White boys from Ohio, at your service. And Michael.”

Michael snorted. “Filipino _man_ from Ohio,” he said.

“Re- real manly,” Evan teased, pointing at the Pac-Man tattoo inked into Michael’s right forearm. It was peeking out from underneath his hoodie- he’d rolled the sleeves back, a nervous habit.

“Hey! First off, I got that when I was eighteen, and _second_ ,” Michael said, his tone jokingly furious, “Pac-Man is a symbol for everyone.”

“Ca- can affirm,” Jeremy said from the shotgun seat. “I’m wearing a Pac-Man shirt. And I’ve got a PM tattoo. So you guys can bite us.”

“Kinky,” Jared commented loudly, and Jeremy coughed. Michael couldn’t see what happened, but judging from the thudding noise and the resounding ‘ow!’ Jared made, he inferred that his best friend probably just punched Jared.

“Yo, Michael, did you know that even though he might look like a twink, your boyfriend packs a mean punch?” Jared yelled to the backseat. Jeremy flushed- _goddamnit, Jared Kleinman._

“We- you-” Michael spluttered, but Rich cut in before he could.

“You too? Aw, hell yeah,” he said, grinning, extending a hand to the front seat before realizing that with Jared driving, that might not have been the best idea. Regardless, the other still gave his friend a high-five and a reply of ‘who _doesn’t?’_.

“Jared,” Jeremy groaned. “You bitch.”

“Fine, fine,” Jared said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. There was a yelp from Evan and Jeremy for him to _‘keep your hands on the wheel oh my god’_ , and Michael saw him grin widely. “But can we all collectively agree that Jeremy Heere looks like a twink?”

_“Jared,”_ Jeremy said, murder in his tone.

“I’m asking your friends, dude.”

Rich snorted. “He _does_.” Michael swatted at his arm and gave him a face.

“I- what’s a twink?” Evan asked, and Jared gaped at him over the mirror.

“Evan- what’s your last name, again?”

“Hansen?”

“Evan Hansen, how have you been friends with these two,” Jared gestured wildly to Michael and Rich, “and _not_ know what a twink is? From what I’ve heard from Jere, these two should _definitely_ have _some_ knowledge-”

“He’s been friends with us for, like, an year,” Rich said, laughing when Evan made a face that clearly displayed regret. “Give it time, Kenman.”

“It’s _Kleinman_ ,” Jared said in an exaggerated tone, “Mr. Goranthki.”

Rich made a face. “I got over that lisp two years ago.” Although he was slightly impressed that Jared knew.

“You can get over lisps?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah. Speech therapy shit,” Rich said, not bothering to go into details. “It was experimental. Terrible, traumatizing, but it worked.”

Michael winced, remembering how Rich used to come back to their dorms looking like absolute shit. Trying to change the subject, he spoke up. “Well, if you want my answer for the twink question, it’s absolutely yes.”

Jared lifted a hand and pointed at Jeremy. “Ha!”

“This is slander,” Jeremy argued. “Betrayed, maligned, first by my family friend, then by my best friend-”

“You’re a twink, Jere, that doesn’t mean it’s bad,” Jared said. “Christine’s lucky.”

Jeremy looked at him. “Was that a _compliment?”_

“Wasn’t an insult?”

“Oh.” The blond boy sat back in his seat, adjusting the sleeves of his blue cardigan. “Cool.”

“What’s a twink?” Evan asked again, and Jared choked.

“Is anyone gonna tell him, or should I?” he asked, to no one in particular.

“Just tell me,” the other sighed.

“Okay, so!” Jared clapped his hands together and rubbed them, eliciting yet another panicked yell from Jeremy to _keep your fucking hands on the wheel,_ and grinned at Evan. “Twinks are people- men, or boys- who look slightly muscular but not _really_ that muscular, like just enough to be attractive, and- uh, they’re usually in their late teens to early twenties-”

“-and they’re pale, skinny, and normally they don’t look like much of a threat,” Rich cut in, continuing with what Jared was saying. “But when things are heated, oh boy- things are _heated_.”

“So…” Evan let the word trail for a while. “Jeremy?”

“Total twink,” Rich confirmed, and Jeremy snorted. “Trust me. I was a bit of a twink back in high-school, but then I went through some shit, and now here I am.”

“You’re still a twink,” Michael muttered, only half jokingly. Rich coughed a surprised laugh.

Evan sat back in his seat. “So am I a twink?” he said to no one in particular.

Jared actually choked at that, and his hand slipped on the wheel, causing a small sudden swerve as the car accelerated. Michael was flung into Evan, who yelped, and Rich was practically thrown into the car door. Jeremy scrambled for the panic bar. “JARED,” he yelled. “IF WE DIE, I SWEAR-”

“Calm your tits, Jeremiah,” Jared mumbled, quickly regaining control. “I was just caught off guard. To answer your question, Evan- very much so, yes. A cute twink too.”

Jeremy whispered something to Jared that, to Michael, sounded like, _“are you gonna flirt with everyone you meet or what”_ , which wasn’t very surprising, as Jared _did_ seem like someone who’d do that.

Too bad Rich was taken, and Michael had already fallen for another twink.

Guess that left Evan to Jared.

Michael mentally claimed the role of matchmaker in this one month he’d be spending with Jeremy. _Hypocrite,_ he chastised himself- but grinned to himself anyway.

“Th- thanks?” Evan stammered.

Rich leaned over to Michael, almost putting his head in Evan’s lap as he did so. “I don’t think he fully gets what a twink is,” he stage-whispered.

“You think?” Michael muttered back.

Evan blushed. “Ju- just tell me what it means!”

“It’s a thing involving porn,” Rich told him bluntly, and Evan choked.

_“What?”_ he squeaked.

“Yeah, but,” Michael added, as he saw his friend about to freak out, “Everything that Jared and Rich said about twinks _were_ true. They just, um, didn’t tell you… the context.”

Evan stared at him. “Jared, can you unlock the doors?”

“Why?”

“I’m throwing myself out.”

“No,” Jared said firmly, reaching over to engage the child-safety locks. “Ha.”

“Screw you,” Evan groaned, but he was smiling.

Jeremy hummed contentedly and leaned back against his seat. He’d finally met his best friend, doubling as his best man at his wedding. He was getting _married_ , to the girl of his dreams as well- but for some reason, that didn’t seem as significant as the fact that Michael was here, was real, and was laughing right along with him at the same jokes, in the same car.

_What more could he ask for?_

“So, Rich, Evan, you’re gonna be staying with me,” Jared said, breaking a short period of silence. They were still in the car, but according to Jared, they were getting closer. “Cuz I have the bigger place.”

“You guys don’t live together?” Rich asked. “Oh, wait- that sounded a bit wrong.”

Jeremy let out a small laugh. “Nah. I live on my own, and so does Jared. Although we did consider moving in with each other the second year of college. We didn’t at the start of college because we were, uh, having some…”

“Differences,” Jared offered. “But we got over it. Jeremy’s my strong homie now.”

“Never say the words ‘strong homie’ every again.”

“My Bro-klahoma,” Jared tried.

“No.”

“Han Brolo,” Michael said from the backseat.

“No.”

“Pepper-bro-ni,” Evan offered.

“No.”

There was a period of silence. “I can’t think of anything,” Rich admitted.

Jeremy turned and pointed to him. “Yes,” he announced. “That. Jared. Follow his example.”

“If it’s not, uh, prying, what happened between you and Jared?” Evan asked. “Uh, you don’t- you don’t have to answer if you-”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Jared steered the car into a turn, getting off the main roads. “It’s just, uh, I was an ass to him for the majority of our childhood-”

“- and I was an ass to him for the majority of sophomore year,” Jeremy finished. “Long story. TL;DR- we’re good now. We bonded. After three years of not talking to each other.”

Rich frowned to himself. Inexplicably, he made eye contact with Jeremy in the side-view mirror. He mouthed a few words soundlessly, and watched as the other paled further. Jeremy hastily nodded, and shook his head. _Not now. Not here._

“Okay,” Evan said, not noticing what was going on with Rich and Jeremy, and not knowing what to do with this new information. “Um. I broke my arm once ju- uh, falling out of a tree,” he said lamely. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Falling out of a tree?” Evan nodded, hoping that Jared could see his reply from the driver’s seat. “It’s cool that you can even climb trees. I think I tried once, and didn’t get three branches before I told Jeremy to call the cops.”

“Fun times,” Jeremy recalled. “You pushed me into a lake once.”

“Michael once fell out of his bunk when we went on a camping trip back in high-school,” Rich chimed in.

“Did not,” Michael lied.

“Yeah, you did. I would know. _I was in the lower bunk, under you.”_

“Ah,” Michael said eloquently.

“Aaaaand we’re here,” Jared announced thirty seconds later, his car pulling into a small neighborhood. Michael’s jaw fell open- Jared and Jeremy lived in _houses?_

Well- they didn’t look too big. And the neighborhood seemed just slightly isolated- Michael guessed it wasn’t close to the city centers. If he was correct, these houses seemed more like single-floor studio apartments, cheaper to afford. _Still pretty damn lit._

“Jeremy’s place,” Jared said loudly. “All passengers please disembark before I drive off with two extra hitchhikers. Keep in mind, I’m not letting you guys into my place. You two’ll have to stay in the car, or some shit.”

Jeremy snorted, already pushing open the car door. “C’mon, Mikey,” he called, instinctively using a nickname he’d use to call Michael over text. The Filipino blushed slightly at the name, but followed suit.

He stuck his head back in a second later. “Text me if anything happens,” Michael said to Rich and Evan.

Rich snorted. “Yes, _mom_. I’m twenty two, but sure, _mom.”_

Michael maturely stuck out his tongue at him, and kicked the door shut behind him. He rushed to the back of the car and pushed open the trunk, grabbing his suitcase and grinning at Evan’s bewildered head poking up behind the back of the seat. He waved, and Michael shut the trunk with a loud _bang._

As the car drove off with two farewell honks, Michael turned towards Jeremy- and froze.

The sun was in the middle of the sky- their flight had arrived at roughly eleven in the morning, and they’d taken a one-hour drive to reach the neighborhood. Which meant that the sun was hanging low in the sky, which meant that there were warm sunbeams shining down on them.

Which meant that they caught the curls of Jeremy’s blond messy hair in the light perfectly.

Michael had dreamt of this moment for God knew how long. For the moment when he’d finally meet Jeremy- his best friend, his unexplainable impossible crush, his goddamned twin in every way excluding looks and DNA.

He didn’t even knew what Jeremy looked like, a few hours prior. Michael had only retained the memory of what his best friend sounded like, spoke like, texted like. And despite not knowing his physical features, he’d fallen for him anyway.

There was anxiety surrounding the idea, of course. What if Jeremy was actually ugly, or deformed, or looked like he’d been run over by a truck? What if Jeremy was a psychopath? A mass-murderer? A tax-evading, mask wearing 21st century Al Capone? Who knew?

Who cared?

Michael had fallen for Jeremy, nonetheless.

And looking at him now, beneath the sun- the young man with pale skin, blue eyes, messy hair, and a stammering light voice, Michael felt dizzy. Because for all his worrying, for all his anxiety, everything had turned out fine.

Jeremy was perfect in his own way. In Michael’s book, he was everything he’d ever hoped for.

And he was also… engaged.

That brought a fast stop to his train of thought.

“Michael!” Jeremy said, turning back from where he was already headed towards a small house. He grinned at him, a carefree smile with no strings attached.

In Michael’s mind, the train careened to a stop, teetering, threatening to come off the tracks.

“You coming?” Jeremy asked, his grin fading to something with a bit more worry. “Michael?”

The train’s lights flickered, and went dark. In the real world, Michael blinked twice, and shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “Yeah,” he called, hefting his suitcase. “Sorry. Blanked out for a moment there.”

Jeremy snorted. “Dork.”

Michael caught up to his friend a second later. “Geek,” he teased. “So, you gonna show me tu casa?”

“Huh? Oh- yeah.” Jeremy dug around in his pocket for a while, finally drawing out a small key triumphantly. “Got it.”

He walked up to the door of his place and fumbled with the lock, his hands too shaky to turn the lock successfully. Michael peered over his shoulder, and elbowed him. “Gimme it. I got this.”

Jeremy obeyed, stepping back. “’Gimme it’?” he echoed.

“Shut up,” Michael said jokingly, smoothly turning the key and pushing the door open. “Ta-da!”

“You’re introducing me into my own home,” Jeremy mumbled, taking the key back. “Talk about good first impressions.”

They stepped inside, Jeremy feeling along the walls for the light switch, and finally turning it on. Michael stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight of Jeremy’s home. “Dude! Holy shit!”

Jeremy smiled. “Jealous?” he teased.

The place wasn’t big, as Michael could imagine for a place in New Jersey, maintained by just one 22 year old, but it was cozy. It was a single-story, large for its size studio apartment, with a small kitchen and dining area tucked into the corner, a bookshelf lining the wall, a small living space in the middle of the studio, and a bed on the other side of the apartment.

But what really caught his eye were the _themes_ of the decoration. The living space was modeled suspiciously after Michael’s old basement back at his moms’ house. Two beanbags thrown on a soft carpet, in front of a TV, with a video game console snaking from the back, two controllers each thrown on a beanbag. “Is that…”

Jeremy followed his gaze. “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly. “After you told me about it, I was pretty freaking jealous. When I got this place, I was thinking about what to do with it- and that you called me and told me about _your_ new place with Rich, and how you missed your basement, so I thought, what the hell?”

Michael didn’t reply. He didn’t know how to. His gaze traveled over to the dining area- _“Are those Apocalypse of the Damned vintage posters?”_

“Yep,” Jeremy confirmed. “First edition.” When Michael turned to stare at him in awe, he offered him a weak smile. “Being an off-Broadway star pays off?”

“Oh my god,” Michael muttered, shaking his head. He was smiling, wide. “Oh my god, Jeremy. This is fucking awesome.”

Jeremy waggled his eyebrows. “I know,” he said smugly. Before any of them could say anything else, the blond froze. “Oh, crap.”

“What?” Michael asked, concern in his tone.

“Oh, uh- it’s just…” Jeremy didn’t know how to word this. “Um,” he said eloquently.

“Is there… anything wrong?”

“I… don’t have a couch. And, uh, I don’t have a guest room.”

“So?” Michael didn’t quite get it yet.

“So…” Jeremy cleared his throat. “Um. My bed’s kind of small. I could… take the beanbags?”

“Wh- Oh.” It clicked.

Jeremy’s studio might’ve been an okay size, but it was made to accommodate just one person. And as a fairly introverted and busy actor, he probably never had guests over. Michael’s brain figured all this out and threw at him like it was tossing an underhand ball, hitting him straight in the gut.

“No, no,” Michael said in a hurry. “It’s fine. It’s your place. I’m basically intruding. I’ll take the beanbags.” _Or we could share the bed-_ he shook the thought off. _Not now!_

“What? No! You’re a guest,” Jeremy protested. “That I didn’t fully prepare for. God. I suck.”

“No! No, honestly, it’s fine,” Michael assured him. “I’ve been sleeping on a shit mattress for the past three years of college- trust me, beanbags are going to feel like heaven.”

“Orwecouldsharethebed,” Jeremy blurted in a rush. His eyes widened- _what did he just say?_

Michael stared at him, not being able to make out the words. “What?” he said dumbly.

_Too late to turn back_. “Uh, I said we could, um, maybe share the bed,” Jeremy said, slower this time. “If you’re not uncomfortable with it it’s fine I know it’s a bit of a stupid idea and honestly I don’t know why I said that-”

“Jeremy!” Michael put a (what he hoped was) comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Dude. Chill.”

“Mh,” Jeremy replied.

“I’d be fine with sharing a bed,” Michael said, trying to sound confident. “You good with it, though?”

“I offered, didn’t I?” Jeremy laughed shakily.

“Then, sure,” Michael said, letting his hand fall to his side. “That’s no problem. See? Got it settled.”

“Cool,” the blond mumbled. God, why was he so awkward?

“Yep.” Michael couldn’t endure more than five minutes of awkwardness- which was better than Rich, who got hyper after thirty seconds of awkward silence, and would undoubtedly do something to relieve the tension. “Um, what games do you have on that?” he asked, pointing at the console.

“Uh-”

“Actually, let me reword that,” the Filipino said, a smile creeping onto his face. “You got AotD on that baby or what?”

A grin spread across Jeremy’s face. “Oh, hell yes.”

“Level Nine?” It was a bit of an inside joke- there was a while in senior year when both Jeremy and Michael were stuck on the same level, always unable to get past the final line of undead defense. They’d spent at least _months_ on it, texting each other nonstop.

Finally, Michael had beat the level first, and Jeremy had followed shortly after. They’d both agreed that it’d probably have been way easier if it were a multiplayer game- but sadly, Apocalypse of the Damned was an old-fashioned vintage game, and it sure as hell didn’t have any online multiplayer function.

If one wanted to play the game with a Player Two, they’d have to manually connect.

Which was what they _could_ do now.

“Level Nine,” Jeremy confirmed, his grin widening.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think? is gay disaster michael more of a mood or unknowing bi wreck jeremy?  
> comment down below what you think could happen next!  
> i have a plotline to stick along to but meanwhile it couldn't hurt for some friend bonding side stories, huh?
> 
> comment or contact me on my tumblr @/gaymodeactivated if you have any advice!  
> also, i'm low-key looking for a writing buddy to collab with, so if you're interested...  
> hit me up bb ;)


	6. One Foot Forward At A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our boys being musical nerds. huge filler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! midterms are coming up and damn they're a pain, but i'm still alive!  
> hope y'all liked percy jackson, the musical :)  
> (i started listening to it over the weekend while studying and damn, i love it, even if spotify only has like,,, six songs. also started listening to newsies and falsettos but whO CARES QUINN CARRY ON WITH THE STORY Q U I N N)
> 
> if you want, go search up the song Drive from PJO, and start listening to it when jared pulls up at jeremy's studio

“Zombie!” Michael yelled, almost throwing his controller at the screen as an undead man with an unflattering unibrow popped up from the corner of the game.   
  
“Watch out!” Jeremy ducked his avatar underneath an overturned table and waited till a horde of zombies ran by him.   
  
“Gah-” The Filipino smashed his controller desperately, accidentally emptying his ammo onto a wall of innocent plants. Fuck.   
  
“Woah!” Jeremy’s hiding table was suddenly reduced to a pile of rubble, courtesy of a grenade-lobbing zombie lady.   
  
“Okay,” Michael said urgently, fingers working overtime on his controller. “I remember there being a cellar in this level.”   
  
“Yeah, but- it’s blocked!” Jeremy exclaimed, practically punching his controller in an attempt to kill off another half-dozen undead corpses. “Cafetorium collapsed- unless you happen to have a drill in your inventory-”   
  
“I don’t,” Michael replied, hiding his avatar behind a corner to pull up his inventory and rifle through it with his controller. “But what I do have…”   
  
Jeremy glanced over at what Michael had picked out. “Oh my god,” he mumbled. “You’re insane.”   
  
His friend grinned at him, the smile so wide it was contagious. “I know! Isn’t it great?”   
  
Sighing, Jeremy grinned back. “Fine. Just let me duck behind you.”   
  
“You can duck behind me anytime, Jere,” Michael teased, but immediately regretted it- what did that even mean? Thankfully, Jeremy hadn’t noticed, since he was too busy trying to outrun a horde of zombies to get to Michael. The Filipino reminded himself to stop saying stupid shit.   
  
Finally, Jeremy’s avatar reached where Michael’s was heroically cowering behind a corner, and ducked behind him. “Throw it?” Michael asked.   
  
“Throw it,” Jeremy confirmed, and with a triumphant yell, Michael’s avatar tossed the grenade around the corner, smack-dab in the middle of the main zombie group, and Michael activated it.   
  
Turns out, no matter who ducked behind who or who had what or who had the most manly scream (Michael wasn’t sure if he or Jeremy would rank in front of the other in that one judging from their reaction when there was a jumpscare earlier in the game), they’d all die.   
  
Why? Michael sighed, dropping the controller. Because the floor fucking vaporized. Good job, Michael.   
  
“Good _job_ , Michael,” Jeremy complained teasingly.   
  
“Like you had a better plan,” the Filipino muttered, lazily flipping off the red screen with the words “Game Over” blinking on it on the game screen. “At least the zombies are dead.”   
  
“They were dead already,” his friend said.   
  
“Deader,” Michael tried.   
  
“They…” Jeremy thought about it. “You get a pass.”   
  
“Yippee,” Michael said in a satirical monotone, leaning back against the beanbag. It felt so much like his old home, before he moved out for college. It reminded him of the old days, nights staying up late smoking weed, chatting with Jeremy, watching conspiracy documentaries on Netflix. “What time is it?”

Jeremy blinked at the clock on the other side of the studio. “Um. Three PM.”

“We’ve been playing for three hours, give or take,” Michael said, letting out a laugh.

The blond snorted. “We’re nerds.”

“Geek,” Michael muttered, in reference to his best friend.

“Should- do you need to unpack?” Jeremy asked. Michael hadn’t brought much- just one luggage- but since he was staying for an entire month, he’d at least need to take out some necessities, right?

One month. There was a sharp pang in Jeremy’s heart as he realized how short that amount of time was. Once thirty or so days were over, Michael would be flying back to Ohio- they’d promised to visit each other more often, of course, but even though his best friend had just got here, Jeremy felt like his life would be boring without the actual, physical presence of Michael Mell by his side.

Michael waved his hand dismissively, and Jeremy had to take a while to remember what he was referring to. “Nah,” he said. “I didn’t bring much. Just some T-shirts, jeans, a spare hoodie, and… I think that’s it.”

Jeremy stared at him. “One month.”

“I’ll be fine,” Michael said with more confidence than he felt.

His friend scoffed. “Says the person who once wrecked three T-shirts in a day.”

“It was Bring Your Own Cup Day!” Michael protested.

“Three T-shirts, Micah.”

Michael tried to hide the small smile on his face when Jeremy called by that particular nickname. “Your argument is invalid,” he announced, “because I said so.”

Jeremy sighed. “That week in debate club really paid off, huh?”

“It was named ‘argumentative discussions’,” the other protested. “I thought it was, like, roasting each other or something.”

“How did your mind skip _straight_ past debate, which is a common school club, by the way, straight to _absolutely slam-dunking one another in a verbal basketball match_?”

“Well,” Michael mumbled. “I’m not straight, so.”

Jeremy snorted. “I am. But, uh, support!” He managed to stand from his cramped up position on the beanbag, stretching, and patted Michael on his back. “Want food?”

Michael winced internally. _Jeremy was straight. Right. Your gay ass can remind yourself of that as many times as necessary, Michael Mell. Dumbass._

Jeremy was staring at him. “Michael. Food?”

The other blinked. “Oh- right! Um. Sure. Whatcha got?”

“Uh, in this studio, not much,” Jeremy started to say, going over to the kitchen and rifling through the cabinets. “Cornflakes, Oreos- ooh, brownies-”

“Geez, vegan much?” Michael stood up himself, letting his game controller drop to the beanbag. “Are there any good pizza places around here? Better yet, a 7-11 where I can stock up on my slushies?”

Jeremy snorted. “How ‘bout we see if Jare and the others want a bite?”

“Of course they want a bite.” Michael struck a dramatic pose. “Of this!”

“Are we sure you’re twenty something?”

“I’m not an old man, Jere.”

“You act like you’re fourteen.”

“That too,” Michael admitted, taking out his phone. “I’ll text Rich.”

“You do that,” Jeremy muttered as he resumed looking through his food supply. “God, when did I buy _this_? Thing’s been here since the freakin’ eighties.”

_Michael: yo richie you up for food?_

His friend’s reply came about thirty seconds later.

_Rich: u never told me that ur friends were this entertaining_

_Michael: please don’t tell me jared burned the house down or something_

_Rich: asjkdskjd no not yet at least_

_Rich: he and ev ARE getting some chemistry on tho_

_Rich: more like he’s trying to flirt and ev’s just really really oblivious. save me mike_

_Michael: food?_

_Rich: fuck yes_

_Rich: haven’t eaten anything since the donuts_

_Michael: you ate THREE donuts_

_Rich: IM A GROWING BOI_

_Michael: YOURE 21_

_Rich: W H A T E V E R M E L L_

_Rich: i’ll ask j and e if they want food_

Jeremy glanced at Michael. “What does Rich say?”

“A lot, but the gist of it is that yeah, he wants food, and also he’s getting third wheeled,” Michael replied, absentmindedly fiddling with the brightness controls on his phone.

“Called it,” Jeremy said. “Jared is so damn gay for twinks.”

“And you know that from… experience?”

“He dated this dude called Miguel once. Sure, he was Mexican, but… Mexican twink, if there ever was one. Miguel’s with Connor now, though. Jared’s had a couple more boyfriends through the years but honestly? He’s a handful, so that’s probably why those relationships never last long.”

“Evan could use a handful,” Michael mumbled, and Jeremy quirked a smile.

“Side project,” he said in a sing-song voice, and Michael laughed.

“Fuck yeah,” he chuckled, and a text from his phone went off.

_Rich: they want fod_

_Rich: *food_

_Michael: fod_

_Rich: shut up_

_Rich: jared says he’s driving bc he doesn’t trust jeremy to_

_Rich: be there in ten_

_Michael: okay_

_Rich: yeah_

_Michael: fod_

_Rich: unyeah_

Michael huffed a short laugh, and met Jeremy’s gaze again. “Jared’s picking us up in ten minutes for fod,” he said.

“Fod?” Jeremy repeated.

“Fod,” Michael confirmed.

“Cool. I like fod.” Jeremy picked at the edges of his shirt- a nervous that Michael recognized, only because he did it himself. “Dude, can you believe that we’re actually here?”

“Heere, I think you mean,” Michael joked. “Sorry. Bad taste. But- yeah, I know, right? Internet friendships- worth more than you’d think.”

“Internet friendships. Most people back at highschool thought I was just fucking with them when I said my closest friend was someone I met online.” His friend exhaled. “You were literally my best friend. You _are_ , literally, my best friend. I’m twenty two. It’s kind of stupid for me to still use the term ‘best friend’ but… Honestly.”

“You are, too.” The words felt weird coming out of Michael’s mouth, for some reason. He shook it off, pinning it on excitement and residual anxiety. “You’re my- my best friend, player two, you name it. You don’t know it, but you helped me conquer high school. You’re what got me through the first few semesters of college.”

Jeremy laughed softly, but quickly sobered. “There was a while when- when I was, um, completely alone. When Jared wouldn’t talk to me, and, uh, shit got… well, shit got pretty intensely real.”

His eyes met Michael’s, and neither of them looked away. “It’s- it was mostly my fault. But you were there. You were, well, still there. Despite my life literally fucking falling away, you were still there.”

Michael gave Jeremy a hesitant smile. “Do we have to hug now?”

Jeremy returned the grin. “I think that may be inescapable.”

-

“Guys, we got this, you ain’t shot this, yo, I know your train of thought is that there ain’t no way in Hades that we’ll win,” Jared sang loudly, scaring Rich out of a light doze. The former grinned at him as he beeped the car horn twice, the sound aimed at Jeremy’s place.

“The Percy Jackson musical?” Evan asked from the shotgun seat. “Seriously?”

“It’s a good musical!” Jared protested. “I’m friends with an off-Broadway musical star, dude. I have the right to sing musical songs whenever I please.”

“I don’t think that’s how this works,” Rich started to say, but was interrupted when the car door opened, and Jeremy and Michael slid into the back seats, pushing Rich into the window. “Okay, first off, ow.”

“Thank god,” Evan muttered. “Guys, Jared’s singing songs from the Percy Jackson musical.”

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to sing Falsettos instead? Or Newsies? I’ll let you know I do a good Mendel.”

“Pegged you for more of a Marvin,” Michael muttered, but Jeremy grinned.

“The Percy Jackson musical, huh? So you _have_ been listening to me and Chris!”

“You two talk all day. Of course I pick stuff up,” Jared said, a weak defensive retort.

“Bet you he’s watched all the bootlegs,” Michael not-so-discreetly whispered to Rich.

“In fact,” Jared started to say, but Jeremy cut him off.

“Food first, then arguments?”

“Please,” Evan agreed.

Jared let out an over-exaggerated sigh, starting the car up again. “Fine.”

“It’s one foot forward at a time!” Jeremy started to sing, “dust off all that dirt and grime! We still got a lot left to do.”

Evan sighed, but Rich leaned forward. “‘Cause people are counting on us-”

“- and we’re counting on you,” Evan finished, shoving Jared slightly, and Jeremy applauded.

“We’re the musical gang!” he shouted cheerfully, then nudged Michael. “Your turn, dude.”

“I have a _terrible_ singing voice-” Michael started to say, but Rich cut in.

“NOT true,” his friend practically yelled. “That night at the party, senior year? Karaoke? You were drunk out of your mind, but your _voice_ , dude!”

“Sounded as shit as I felt the morning after?”

“I had to endure not one, not two, but six people coming up to me the next Monday and asking me for your number. _Six_. Three of them mentioned your ‘rockin’ bod’, and almost all of them told me you were a literal angel.”

Jared barely concealed a snort. _“Rockin’ bod?”_

Michael sighed, leaning back against the leather car seat. “Fine.”

Jared stopped the car at a red light. Michael bit his lip- he considered pulling a last minute Thomas Sanders and starting to scream _I hate being put on the spot_ in an off-key voice, but shook the idea off. One song couldn’t hurt.

“Drive, just drive,” Michael sang, his voice loud and clear in the closed space inside the car. Rich grinned at him, egging him on. “Stay ahead, stay ahead, stay alive.”

“You never told me he could _sing_ ,” Jared started to whisper to Jeremy, but the latter kicked the back of his seat. _Shut up, Jared._

“We ain't got no time for moping, when we’re working and we’re coping,” the Filipino continued, raising his fist as his own tone rose. “So pedal to the metal and drive!”

As if on cue, the light turned green, and Jared grinned as if taking Michael up on a personal challenge, pressing down on the accelerator- far from flooring it, but definitely taking them above the speed limit. “We’ll be at Sbarro’s in five minutes, boys!”

Michael caught Jeremy’s eye. _So?_

Jeremy widened his gaze in an expression of shock. _You never told me you could_ sing _, Michael Mell._

The other grinned sheepishly. _Surprise?_

Jeremy just shook his head. _Damn._

 _Sing with me?_ Michael offered.

Jeremy made a face. _I’d look bad._

“C’mon,” Michael said, now his turn to nudge Jeremy. “It’s one foot forward at a time?”

“Dust off all that grit and grime,” Evan sang.

“We still got a lot left to do,” Rich chimed in.

Michael poked Jeremy in the shoulder. “‘Cause people are counting on us, and I’m counting on you. Now, drive- just _drive_.”

“Stay ahead, stay ahead, stay alive,” the blond sang, giving in.

Jared whooped. “The road, it offers freedom, and as for rules, hell, we don’t need em!”

Michael couldn’t help the large grin spreading across his face as the five of them sang, loud enough for the passing cycles and cars to hear. “So pedal to the metal, and drive!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the song if you're still confused >> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AlxiP8m9y0
> 
> hope you guys liked this! a bit short, but i'm short (on time, and i'm 5'5 so,,, is that short?)  
> find me on tumblr at @/gaymodeactivated, send in requests or talk w me or whatever!  
> constructive criticism and ideas are very much appreciated :D


	7. Be Alright For The Rest Of Your Life (not really)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael has one of his many-to-come crises. evan and rich are good, helpful friends. jared's too observant for his own good, and jeremy's basically in his own world. overall, just another normal day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY FOR LACK OF UPDATES  
> THINGS HAVE BEEN CRAZY, AND IT SUCKS THAT I DON'T WRITE THAT MUCH
> 
> ,,, also guess who bought tickets to Dear Evan Hansen in January?? this boy, right here  
> (i hope u enjoy this chapter i wrote it all in one sitting n i know its short i swear i'll make it up to you guys)

“What kind of a heathen voluntarily puts pineapple on pizza?” Evan’s words were directed at Jared, who was in the middle of chewing a large slice of Hawaiian pizza.

“I’ve known this guy for decades,” Jeremy muttered. “Trust me, it doesn’t get better.”

“Hey! I can be charming when I want to be,” Jared defended, putting his pizza down. “Besides, _you_ were the one who introduced me to pineapple pizza, Heere.”

“No, I said, ‘Jared, you see that pineapple pizza? _Don’t_ eat it.’ Then you said, ‘Don’t tell me what to do’, and proceeded to devour an entire pizza,” Jeremy said. “At age seven.”

Michael snorted, gulping down a mouthful of Pepsi. “Now, why does that remind me of a guy I know?” His eyes slanted to Rich.

The man stuck his tongue out. “Between you and me, I can’t decide who makes more questionable life decisions.”

“You’re the one who stripped in the middle of math class because you were bored,” Michael reasoned.

“You were the one who pulled the sprinklers to get out of a bio exam,” Rich retorted.

“You kissed Elijah and accidentally came out to the whole school. _Accidentally._ ”

“You came to school covered in rainbows and pride flags just because a girl was flirting with you.”

“You-”

Leaning back in his seat, Jared started to slowly hum ‘Can You Feel The Love Tonight?’ and took another bite of his pizza. “The tea is hot today, fellas.”

Michael scoffed. “Rich, you make _way_ worse life decisions.”

“Mm. Says the gay,” his friend joked.

“Says the bi.”

“Says the-”

Jeremy cut in. “How’d you two meet? And how did _Evan_ get roped in with you guys?”

Rich grinned. “Ah. Fun story. Mikey and I met because we were paired for an art project, _way_ back in junior year, where we had to draw our partner. Originally, I wanted to draw nude portraits- when you get paired with a guy who has an ass like Mike’s, you gotta take that shot- but apparently, that wasn’t ‘school appropriate, Richard’.”

“So,” Michael continued, in fear of Rich’s unwelcomed and unsolicited sexual comments, “We bonded over a hatred of sketching with charcoal.”

Nodding, Jeremy sipped his soda. Michael took that as incentive to keep talking. “And for Evan, we bumped into each other at a coffee place. I was just moving in with Rich to our new place, and Ev’s a year- two years?”

“Two years,” Evan confirmed.

“Two years older than us,” Michael continued, “So I guess he took pity on us, because he stopped by a few days later and gave us a houseplant.”

“A houseplant?” Jared laughed. “Cute.”

Blushing, Evan stammered, “I- It was the only thing I had, ‘n I thought they might want something welcoming, because I remember how- it was stressful when I first moved-”

“It’s fine, Ev,” Rich said soothingly. “It was cool. We kept it alive. Mostly.”

“Anyway, houseplant, we then started to hang out, and then…” Michael gestured to all of them vaguely. “Now we’re here. Somehow.”

Jeremy smiled at him. “Somehow.”

Coughing, Jared mumbled, “Gay.” Thankfully, no one seemed to hear him, except for Rich, who winked at the other.

“How about you two?” Evan asked. “Jere- Jeremy and Jared. How’d you meet?”

Jared shrugged. “Childhood friends. Went to each others’ bar mitzvahs. High-school acquaintances. College buddies.”

“The classics,” Jeremy agreed.

“How about Christine?” Rich asked. “How’d that happen?”

Jeremy blushed, and Michael felt something twisting in his gut. He brushed it off to bad pizza. “Oh, it’s a long, long interesting story,” Michael chimed in, and Jeremy spluttered.

“No- well, yes- but- no? Yes?”

“Ooh, do we get to do a bachelor party or something?” Evan piped up. “That’d be fun.”

“Oh, _hell_ yeah,” Jared said. “Although the novelty slightly wears off once you realize we’re all gay.”

“Bisexual,” Rich and Evan said simultaneously, and grinned at each other sheepishly.

Holding out his hand, Rich winked at Evan. “I didn’t know that. We’re in the same club, huh?”

Evan laughed, returning Rich’s high-five. “So, Jeremy’s the only straight guy here?”

“Yup,” Jeremy confirmed. That same tug in Michael’s gut turned his stomach again, but the FIlipino ignored it. “But! I support all of you.”

Rich shot Michael a sympathetic look, and Michael grimaced in response. Jared noticed them, and filed the information away for future use- then, stretching, he set the crust of his pizza down on his paper plate and stood up as much as he could in the booth they were squished in. “Well,” he announced. “Where we headed next?”

“Oh! Remember that roller-skating rink nearby?” Jeremy volunteered. Jared snorted.

“We haven’t been there since we were… what, twelve? We’re in our _twenties_ now!”

Jeremy stared Jared down as much as he could with the height difference between sitting down and standing up. “Your point?”

The other paused. “Don’t got one. Let’s go.”

Michael frowned to himself. His throat felt dry, but as he reached for the water, his stomach turned violently- if he drank or ate anything, he might just retch it up immediately. His body and brain protested at the thought of moving, let alone rollerskating.

He shot a desperate look at Evan and Rich, the latter of which was too preoccupied with checking his phone- but Evan caught the glance, and got the hint.

“Actually, um, I’m feeling kinda sick,” Evan said, his tone faint. “I think it might have been the plane? I’ve- it was my first time, so there’s some, um, nausea. I might throw up if I do anything other than just sit.”

Jared frowned in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah! Ye- yeah,” Evan said hastily. “I- I just need my meds. Which are, uh, back at your place.”

Jeremy nodded understandingly. “That’s fine! We can go skating and traumatize kids another time,” he reassured Evan. “We can head home first, I think. It’s been a long day.”

“Long day,” Rich agreed, finally putting his phone down. He looked slightly disturbed, but Michael was feeling too sorry for himself to bring himself to ask about it. “What are we talking about?”

“Ev isn’t feeling well,” Michael managed. “Back. Rest.”

Rich raised an eyebrow at Michael- it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to tell that Evan wasn’t the one feeling like shit. But thankfully, he refrained from saying anything aside from, “Alright. I _told_ you bringing the meds was a good idea, Ev!”

Evan smiled weakly. “Tha- thanks, Rich.”

Jared fished his car keys out of his pocket and threw a $20 bill on the table. When everyone else made to protest, he held up a finger. “Zip it. Computer gig. Pays _loads_ if you choose the right career options.”

“I’m an _actor_ ,” Jeremy argued, but hopped out of the booth.

“And yet you’re not gay,” Jared said, then with a British accent, “Shocking. Scandalous.”

“Not _all_ Broadway and/or off-Broadway actors are gay,” Jeremy defended. “Will isn’t.”

“Mm. And who was that Ben dude dating again?”

“Shut up,” Jeremy mumbled, and Jared laughed, tossing his keys in the air and catching them with his other hand, the metal landing in his palm with a _clink_.

“Be nice to the guy who’s driving you, Heere.”

“Go fuck yourself, Kleinman,” Jeremy complained jokingly.

“Been there, done that, got the dildo to prove it,” Jared said, and Jeremy couldn’t tell whether or not his friend was joking.

“I sincerely hope you’re kidding,” Jeremy muttered, but judging from the wink Jared shot him, his sad, reluctant conclusion was that his friend was, in fact, not joking in the least. “God. Homosexuals.”

Jared grinned. “Welcome to Falsettoland, bitch.”

\------

Michael stayed in the backseat, quiet during the drive back. Evan and Rich mainly kept the conversation going, so nothing got too awkward. Of course, the Filipino occasionally added in a short commentary, or a snarky one-liner, but for the majority, he was just staring out the window.

The streets passed him by, at a speed slow enough for Michael to count the trees and houses. Facts, numbers, and scattered ideas bounced around in his brain, and he lazily let them flash across his mind, mostly focused on not throwing up all over Jared’s car seats.

 _One_ . _Two. Three._ Jeremy’s straight. _Four, five, six._ Michael had a crush on him, and had had a crush on him for a couple years. _Seven, eight._ Jeremy’s engaged. _Nine._ To Christine Canigula, the love of his life. _Ten._ Michael was happy for his friend.

No, he wasn’t.

Well, he was. Michael _was_ happy that Jeremy was engaged, because that would mean that _Jeremy’s_ happy, and to be honest? That was what Michael cared about. The fact that Jeremy was happy.

Even if it meant Michael felt like shit. If Jeremy was happy with Christine, Michael would stay back and smile, laugh when he needed to, congratulate his best friend, and hell, he’d catch the damned bouquet if there was one.

He’d do it, for Jeremy Heere. For his best friend.

Who would always be just that.

“Alright, first and only stop before the terminal station,” Jared loudly said. They’d gone back to Jeremy’s studio-apartment, and Michael blearily pushed open the car door, nearly rolling out the vehicle and onto the asphalt. He fought the urge to be sick all over the pavement. He didn’t even _know_ why he was so nauseous.

“Thanks,” he called back into the car. Jared only nodded.

Jeremy hopped out the car, headed for the door to his studio. “C’mon, Micah.”

 _Micah._ That damned nickname.

Michael followed after Jeremy, ducking under the just slightly too low doorframe, into the apartment of his best friend, with a decoration inspired by their friendship. _Friendship_.

“Hey, dude, you okay?” Jeremy asked, his tone concerned. “You look like ass.”

Michael froze up. _Not okay._ “Yeah. No. I- there was probably something in the pizza.”

“Oh, yeah. Sbarro’s sometimes does that.”

“Th- thanks for the heads-up,” Michael said dryly, and Jeremy laughed.

“Whoops. Um, do you want something? Water, or-”

“Nah, nah, I’m fine. If I drink anything, it’s probably going to come right back up.”

Jeremy furrowed his brows worriedly. “Dude, that doesn’t sound okay in the least.”

“I’ll be fine,” Michael said again, dismissively. “Just… where’s the bathroom?”

Jeremy pointed. “There. There’s also mouthwash in the cabinet. And, if you need it, I _think_ there’s stomach medicine too.”

Nodding his thanks, the Filipino slipped into the bathroom, and immediately collapsed on the cold tile floor, closing his eyes and groaning. After a few seconds of his mini-tantrum, he grabbed a towel from a rack and stood up, wetting it under the water, and scrubbed at his face.

“Get it together, Mell,” he muttered to himself.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket, and he fished it out, checking his messages.

 **_Kleinman_ ** _created a new group chat:_ **_gay bros and other hoes_ **

**_Kleinman_** _added_ ** _E. Hansen, R. Goranski,_** _and_ **_M. Mell_**

 **_Kleinman:_ ** _We need to talk._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- yo i have an art acc on instagram it's called plaidtext n it's not half bad  
> \- tumblr: gaymodeactivated-- come talk to me, or something,, give me writing or art ideas pls just _interact with me i need friends_  
>  \- 980 reads? y'all are crazy, i love you  
> \- any ideas or suggestions on what's gonna happen? i love reading your comments they always make my day skhgadhk  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big news!! check end notes later

 

 **J. Kleinman:** So, let me get this straight

 **R. Goranski:** You might want to reword that

 **J. Kleinman:** Right.

 **J. Kleinman:** Let me lay this out again, in the least hetero way possible

 **J. Kleinman:** Michael’s gay for Jeremy? Like, I’m not surprised, but I need a confirmation

 **E. Hansen:** Yup

 **R. Goranski:** Oh yeah

 **M. Mell:** Unfortunately

Jeremy chose this moment to knock loudly on the bathroom door. “Michael! You okay? You’ve been in there for, like, ten minutes.”

Michael panicked. “I’m almost done!” _God, that sounds wrong._ “Uh, I mean, I’ll be out in a sec?”

“Okay,” Jeremy replied. His best friend sounded unperturbed, and a few seconds later, Michael could hear Jeremy’s footsteps walking away from the bathroom.

 **J. Kleinman:** Oh man. Oh man.

 **M. Mell:** Please don’t tell Jeremy

 **J. Kleinman:** I won’t.

 **J. Kleinman:** Again, I’m not surprised

 **J. Kleinman:** Is that why you looked so sick during pizza?

 **M. Mell:** Maybe?

 **J. Kleinman:** God, that could not have felt good. Jeremy’s ridiculously convinced that he’s straight

 **M. Mell:** Are you saying he’s not?

 **J. Kleinman:** No way in hell

 **J. Kleinman:** Well, okay. I’m 60% sure

 **J. Kleinman:** You should have heard him go on and on about Ben Platt

 **E. Hansen:** Who’s Ben Platt?

 **J. Kleinman:** Some guy in a musical called Book of Mormon, or something.

 **E. Hansen:** Oh. Okay

 **J. Kleinman:** Anyway, point is, Jeremy isn’t straight. I’m pretty sure

 **M. Mell:** ‘pretty sure’ doesn’t do much for a six-year crush, Jared

Michael stuck his phone in his pocket and washed his hands, splashing some water on his face for good measure. He pushed open the bathroom door.

“Michael!” Jeremy waved him over to the beanbags, and tossed a controller at him. “Want to finally defeat level 10, or what?”

The Filipino boy looked at his best friend and shrugged, jumping down onto a beanbag. “Why not? Let’s do this.”

Jeremy grinned. “Hell yeah.”

They quickly settled into an old, familiar routine—despite only starting to play multiplayer a few hours prior. Jeremy was on the offense while Michael carried the defense, even if he was Player One. Jeremy had a habit of not watching his own back while he killed off tiny pixelated zombies.

“Aw, fuck yeah! Take that,” Jeremy yelled at the monitor while his fingers worked overtime on the game controls. “Wait, no—FUCK!”

Michael grinned, the words _Game Over_ flashing mockingly on the display. The game had a peculiar notion of ending the game even if it was only one of the players who’d been killed off. “This is why I’m Player One, mind you.”

“Fuck off,” Jeremy grumbled jokingly. He tossed his controller in the air and caught it as it fell, repeating the motion absentmindedly. “You know, I have an extensive collection of video games. We could take a break from the apocalypse for a few.”

“What the cast of The Walking Dead wish they could say,” Michael laughed. “What have you got?”

Jeremy stood, groaning as he did so, and walked over to a shelf next to the monitor, rifling through some games. “Uh, Spider-Man PS4, but that’s singleplayer. Call of Duty. Skyrim. Uh, Fortnite.”

“Fortnite?” Michael snorted. “I’m leaving.”

“I bought it to see what the hype was for!” Jeremy defended. “It sucked.”

“It really does.” Michael stretched leisurely. “You have any Mario games, or something? They’re made to be multiplayer.”

Jeremy snatched a game off the shelf. “Gotcha!” He tossed it to Michael, who barely managed to duck the assault.

“Hey,” Michael complained, scooping up the game. He scoffed. “Rainbow Road? This could not get gayer.”

“You’re gay, so shut up,” Jeremy joked, taking the game and shoving the disc into the console, booting the game up. “I call Luigi!”

“Wow.” Michael navigated over to Yoshi and selected the green creature. “Such a betrayal.”

The two of them quickly got immersed in the gameplay—despite the terrible, eye-stabbing graphics—and fell into easy banter and trash talk. Michael slammed Jeremy off the tracks, the latter spewing dismayed profanity before grabbing a power-up and slowing Michael down significantly.

“That all you got?” Jeremy taunted as he sped into first place, slamming home the gold before jumping up and whooping in victory. _“Ha!”_

Michael snapped a quick photo of a very ecstatic Jeremy and saved it to his album—it was just too cute. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, feigning disappointment. “I’ll get you next time, Player _Two_.”

“I feel like I deserve the Player One title now,” his friend declared. “I beat you at the gay road.”

“Name one game you can always, consistently, beat me at, and I will knight you Player One with my own hands.”

Jeremy stuck his tongue out in an extremely mature manner. “Fuck you.”

“Ouch. But more importantly, you may have won this battle, but I still win this war.”

“Fuuck you,” Jeremy repeated, but in a more whiny tone.

“Maybe later,” Michael replied, and Jeremy choked on a combination of a laugh and a protest.

“One day,” Jeremy muttered. “One day, I’ll get that title.”

“You can dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im SO SORRY this is so short fuck i'll work on a proper update soon i swear i swear
> 
>  **also, unrelated but big news!!**  
>  I'm working with some extremely talented artists to make a Dear Evan Hansen dating sim!  
> It's currently in the works—I'm the scriptwriter, programmer, and sprite artist, and game dev, and I'm collaborating with a bunch of amazing artists (veraniloh, spacedust_art, and a bunch others!) for the game! It's roughly 25-30% done, and if you're interesting in helping out with background art OR just to support us and follow along on our progress, [check out our Tumblr blog here!](https://datingofficially-orwhatever.tumblr.com/) [OR, check out our Instagram!](https://www.instagram.com/datingsim.orwhatever/) OR BOTH! Both is good.


End file.
